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The beast knows when there are other creatures in her domain. She always watches, making sure they do not take any more than they give. These new creatures – familiar in that strange way – don’t understand the balance yet. They’ve been hunting but paying no penance. No sacrifice.
The wilderness takes only as much as it gives.
They seem to be fighting. The beast watches as one of them speaks to the others, authority in her tone. She stands up straight, but her posture betrays a slight shake as she talks. She’s just as worried as the rest of them are.
The beast has been watching them for a few months, now.
They are arguing over the impending winter. The beast likes the winter, the white dusting of snow. The way it settles across the ground. The way it lightly dusts her snout. She doesn’t understand why these things don’t. Distantly, she remembers what it feels like to be cold. She hasn’t felt that way in a while.
The authoritative one is yelling now, gesturing vaguely away from the cabin. The others seem to be listening to what she says, though the smaller one, the one with misplaced confidence, seems rankled at the discussion.
It’s easier to watch in this weather. Her fur makes her more camouflaged, lets her get closer to the intruders without them running in fear. Still, caution reigns, and when one of them vaguely looks in her direction she stills her breath.
The group seems to reach some sort of consensus. The beast’s ear twitches, trying to understand what they’re saying. It’s too garbled, it’s nonsense. The beast hasn’t heard speech patterns like this in a while. These sorts don’t really come up here, and when they do, they tend not to last all that long.
The authoritative one chuffs, something worthy of an animal. The beast almost admires it. They don’t do much for a while, and the beast watches the quiet way they all interact. It’s charming but foolish. They should be hunting, preparing.
After a while they group up. The authoritative one is leading one of the groups. She seems displeased with a member, with the bone worn around her neck. Perhaps the authoritative one is foolish, too. Protection from the wilderness comes in many forms.
They depart, and the beast has to make a decision. Stay or go. Watch the cabin or the cubs. She chooses the cubs.
-
They make good distance, the beast has to admit. They’re ignoring all the indicators of the wilderness, though, except for the Bonekeeper, who insists on pointing out the visions that the wilderness has been giving their anointed. The beast watches these interactions with deepening interest, especially after determining the intensity of the Authority and the Bonekeeper’s relationship.
Night eventually falls. The Authority decides to take first watch, leaving the others to sleep. It’s then when the beast notices it; the flash of red, the dark cast of the Wilderness’ shadow. The Authority has something in her, something the Wilderness covets. The Authority doesn’t seem cognisant of it, the way it only appears when she’s mentally weak.
The beast watches curiously as the Authority takes the Bonekeeper’s protection charm, as well as the gun that they had brought with them, before climbing up a tree. Strange, the beast thinks, that the deeper version of the Authority would skirt its responsibility like this.
It happens relatively quickly after that. Wolves set upon them, with the Authority’s safety guaranteed by her elevation. They go for the Bonekeeper first, protection charm gone and in the hands of the darkness. The girls wake, screaming at the wolfish presence, fending them off with fire.
The beast watches as one of her siblings drags the Bonekeeper off by the flesh of her cheek and follows quietly. A confrontation is in order.
-
The beast watches as the wolf doesn’t kill the Bonekeeper, instead turning to look at her. It speaks without words, as all creatures of the wilderness do. Its language is not as developed as the beasts, but it can communicate well enough.
Protector.
The beast chuffs, headbutting the wolf. The wolf doesn’t understand.
You separated Bonekeeper from pack.
The wolf bares its teeth but not menacingly. I didn’t know.
What else could you think? The beast approaches the Bonekeeper. She’s breathing, still, shallow and weak as it is. I will return her.
The wolf swishes its tail, stirring up dirt. I didn’t mean to, Protector.
The beast offers a comforting lick to the curve of the wolf’s ear. The wilderness forgives you, wolf. Return to your pack.
The wolf howls, loud and all-encompassing, before running off into the dark. The beast watches it leave before turning back to the Bonekeeper. Her cheek is torn open, but she doesn’t look too injured otherwise. The beast doesn’t know any better, so she gives the cheek a cautious lick. Helping the only way she knows.
Rising onto her hind legs, she scoops the Bonekeeper up in her paws. The Bonekeeper seems so awake for a moment, eyes widening at the beasts form. The beast doesn’t know how to settle her, choosing to whimper as softly as possible. She emits a low purr from her chest, one that is supposed to indicate comfort.
It must work, because the Bonekeeper’s eyes fall closed with little resistance. The beast keeps a delicate grip as she works her way back to their homestead, back to the cabin in which they live now.
It takes the beast longer than she’d like. She wants the Bonekeeper to receive the medical attention she needs, but she’s also doing her best not to jostle the Bonekeeper. Occasionally she tries to give the Bonekeeper water, but her claws are not fit to cradle and pour. Tightening her grip, she continues.
She can hear the anguish as she approaches the cabin. The wilderness is singing, offering thanks to its assigned protector as she takes the Bonekeeper to the firepit. The wilderness likes this one and wants to protect her. The instinct is given to the beast, that desire to protect.
She reaches the cabin walking at her full height. It’s broad daylight – she knows there’s a chance they’ll shoot her – but she continues on anyway. It’s not like they have someone who can really handle the rifle. It’s not like the wilderness wouldn’t heal her even if she was shot.
The beast doesn’t know how to rouse attention quietly and refuses to enter their home – that is their den, their sacred space – so she howls, soft but consistent, and it causes one of the others to come out the front door. The second eyes lay on her, the girl falls back, eyes wild.
The beast chuffs, delicately crouching down, gently placing the Bonekeeper on the floor. She noses at the Bonekeeper, whimpering lightly all the while. She backs away, tail tucked and ears pinned back, making herself as small and scarce as possible. These creatures don’t understand her, don’t understand her innate desire to protect.
She’s backed off to the tree line, close enough to watch, when the Authority bursts through the door, running to cradle the Bonekeeper. The Authority raises her eyes to the beasts and looks at her with something akin to respect. The beast sits and waits. She has to know the Bonekeeper survives.
Others start exiting the cabin, staring at the beast with fear and confusion. She’s not used to this kind of reception. The creatures and critters of the wilderness know of her, know of her mission. She is the Wilderness’ hand and heart. These creatures don’t understand this yet.
The last one to appear does not look at the beast strangely. If anything, recognition seems to be what she is experiencing. She bypasses the Bonekeeper, approaching the beast. The other creatures try to stop her but she silences them with an open hand.
This must be the Wilderness’ anointed.
“You,” she says, and it’s the first thing out of any of their mouths that the beast has been able to parse, to filter and understand.
The beast sits up a bit, cocking her head with interest. The Anointed watches as she does this, holding a hand out delicately. The beast sniffs it. Me.
She reels backwards, out of the beasts range. “Did you just talk?”
The Authority looks over with anger in her eyes. “Lottie, that thing can’t fucking talk. Come help with Van.”
Another one of the creatures – a man, holding the rifle that once belonged to someone else, someone worse – levels a gun at her. “Should I shoot it?”
“No, it brought Van back.” The Authority raises her head to look directly at the beast. “But if it shows up again, yeah. Shoot it.”
The beast watches this all with curious eyes, taking in the language. Potentially her connection to the Bonekeeper – Van – gave her the ability to understand them. The Wilderness laughs at her, ruffling her fur playfully.
The Anointed – Lottie – looks at her in awe. “You can talk.”
Communicate.
“Communicate.” She stares up at the beast in awe. “How did you protect Van?”
“Lottie-”
“Wait,” another one says, “they really might be speaking.”
“Fucking hell, Laura Lee.”
The beast settles back onto all fours, lying down and making herself small to reduce the perceived threat. Been watching. Wilderness warned them not to. Bonekeeper is under my protection.
Lottie just watches calmly. “That doesn’t explain-”
Authority, the beast gestures at the Authority with her nose, has a darkness inside of her. Removed the protection charm. Pack of wolves, one dragged Bonekeeper off. Warned the wolf that Bonekeeper is to be protected, carried Bonekeeper back.
Lottie lets out a breath, closing her eyes briefly. “Tai, were you attacked by wolves?”
“How the fuck could you possibly know that?”
Lottie’s eyes don’t leave the beasts. “It told me.” She turns to Tai. “Did you take the bone I gave Van?”
Tai’s face shutters. “I didn’t mean to.”
Lottie returns her focus to the beast, and the beast wags her tail. “What are you?”
The protector of this Wilderness.
“Well,” Lottie murmurs, leaning in slowly before gently carding fingers through the beast’s fur. She purrs. “I’m Lottie. It’s nice to meet you, Protector.”
The beast nudges Lottie, rising to her feet before walking back into the trees. The other girls just watch silently.
-
The beast goes out of her way not to be viewed by the creatures after that. They seem to hold some respect for her now, which is nice, but she should not be engaging with them like that. The wilderness disagrees, raising winds around her to tell her to reach out, but she doesn’t.
She keeps watching, though. One of them – Laura Lee, her brain supplies – is insisting on flying the plane. That plane. The beast has been watching, because she can’t. Not without fire and blood and brimstone.
The beast watches as they start cutting away at the landing strip, unable to stop them yet. They may change their mind. The beast watches the girls discuss it, low voices sharp with anger and judgement. They want help for Van, for one of the others. They have a creature with-child among them, and it’s making them antsy.
They’re cleaning off the plane now, and it makes an ache pulse behind the beast’s eyes. The wilderness always tries to lead her here, but the memories hurt too much. Remembering is a fickle thing. The beast prefers to only remember the wilderness and what it gave her.
One of the girls seems to notice something, though, tracing her fingers over a part of the plane. She calls for the others’ attention, and they gather around her, tittering falling to silence. The beast is intrigued – what could possibly be on this plane that has shaken them like this? – before Laura Lee shakes her head.
“I still need to go.”
Lottie’s the one who stops her, shockingly. “We could finally figure out what happened. We need this plane for at least a few more days.”
“I know how much she meant to you, Lot, but we need to protect the people still alive first.”
“Dude-”
“Laura Lee-”
“Fuckin’-”
Lottie raises a hand. “It’s okay. Don’t bring this up around Van, though.”
The girls all nod in unison, and the beast becomes even more intrigued. They finish clearing off all the greenery, and the adult – the oldest creature of them – stops Laura Lee. He says something to her, quiet enough that the beast can’t hear, but Laura Lee shakes her head and gets into the plane anyway.
That’s the beasts cue. She trots into the runway, sitting comfortably in front of the plane. The idiot raises the rifle toward her, but Lottie grabs it. “If that was her dad’s plane, this is probably his gun.” She says, tracing a hand over the rifle.
“Not now, Lottie.” The idiot spits, shoving Lottie back and forcing her to the ground.
The girls all stalk toward him, ready to protect their own, but they’re all shocked to silence when the beast snarls, harsh and deep. The idiot’s eyes widen, unfocused and scared in the light of day.
No harm.
A few of the girl’s flinch. “What the fuck?”
Lottie beams over at the beast. “I told you guys it could talk!”
The beasts tongue lolls out as she approaches Lottie slowly, trying to impress upon them that she means no harm. Lottie immediately scratches at the junction of her ear and skull. “Why are you here?”
Plane not safe. Can’t leave that way.
Laura Lee must hear her, because she comes closer to the beast – not close enough to touch, but closer than the other girls are comfortable with. “How could you know that?”
Memories flash behind the beasts eyes, too quick to catch, but enough of a story to know the truth of it.
It is ruined.
Lottie flinches back, and the idiot raises the gun again. “Ruined?”
The beast shuffles backwards, unaware of why this would cause upset. Yes. Tampered with. Unsafe.
“And you know this how?”
I watch.
“What the fuck,” Misplaced confidence says, “What the fuck, what the fuck.”
“Should I kill him?” The idiot asks, jaw clenched.
The beast growls. Him?
Lottie’s eyes widen and she approaches again. “Are you a girl?”
I was.
“What do you mean, ‘I was’?” With-child asks.
I’m a beast now. I used to be a girl.
“What was your name?” Lottie asks, eyes as curious as they are cautious. “Do you remember it? Your name?”
The beast closes her eyes, thinking. It’s been a while since someone’s asked for her actual name. The animals just know her as protector. The wilderness swishes through her fur, picking up the hair of the girls around her. The name slips in her ears, but it disperses the second it reaches her.
I don’t remember.
-
It’s not that the beast doesn’t remember being a creature like these girls. Sometimes it’s just easier to focus on the present. The memories of the years before the wilderness slip through her fingers, never full enough to grab onto. It’s how she knows it’s too dangerous for them out here, how she knows that staying here unprepared for winter will kill them. It had almost killed her.
She holds onto flashes. The gun. The man. The plane. She just chooses to let them pass as much as possible. There is no point. Her home is here, this wilderness.
The girls all watch the beast as she watches them, neither making moves towards one another. The gun has been lowered and moved out of the way, and they seem to be watching the beast with curiosity now.
The beast bares her teeth, and the girls stop their approach. She uses the opportunity to approach the plane and look at whatever it was that they’d revealed. There’s something written on the plane, something that the beast can’t read, though maybe she once could. Raising on her hind legs, she gently touches a paw to it.
A memory pulses in her skull and she falls over, pawing at her face to try and dim the pain, howling as she does. The girls all keep their distance for this, and the beast is grateful. The wilderness swirls past her, pressing gently, easing the ache. ‘Is it better?’ the wilderness asks, ‘these people are yours.’
The beast growls, shaking her head violently. I have no one. I protect.
The wilderness places a gentle pressure on the centre of the beasts back. ‘You have them.’
The pressure disappears, and the beast looks towards this wayward collection of creatures – humans – staring back at her. Some memories slot into place and some just float meaninglessly in her mind. She knew them, somehow. Before it all went downhill.
How long has she been gone?
The beast turns towards the cabin, running at a pace that humans cannot match. She hears a broken yell behind her – Lottie, from the sounds of it – but she does not stop.
When the cabin is within sight, the beast climbs into the trees. It’s not comfortable but she’s done it before. The wilderness always accommodates this, even if it’s not happy with her right now. She can sense its displeasure. It wanted her to be grateful for being reunited with these humans, but it doesn’t understand the internal dilemma that the beast experiences.
The beast turns its nose up to the wind. Did you summon them?
The wilderness does not reply, but that is answer enough.
The beast watches as the girls return, pale and shaken. She watches as Van exits the front door, face covered in homemade bandages, eyes scanning for Laura Lee. Tai is close behind her. Every girl is accounted for.
“What happened?” Van asks, clearly put off by their demeanours.
The beast watches. The beast always watches.
Jackie’s the one who speaks. “The plane in the field? It was the Scatorccio’s.”
Tai bursts into hysteric laughter but Van just stares blankly at Jackie. “No way.”
“Yeah. Shauna recognised the name of it. Rifle was probably good old Papa Scat’s, too, if we think about it. Maybe the cabin, too.” Jackie watches carefully. “The thing was there, too. Spoke to all of us this time.”
Tai scowls. “You’ve all gone crazy. The hunger-”
Van stops Tai. “I didn’t mention this when everything happened, because I thought I was dying and having insane death hallucinations, but when it picked me up, I swore I saw Nat for a second. I thought maybe it was just like – death in the comfort of my best friend, y’know?”
The girls break out into overlapping discussion after this, fighting with each other over whether or not they’re crazy. The beast notices one person isn’t. Lottie has turned and is looking straight up into the tree the beast is in. She raises her hand, waving gently.
One of the younger girls that the beast doesn’t even recognise from her memories turns to Lottie. “What are you waving at?”
Lottie’s hand drops, but the girls all look over to where she was facing. They clearly spot the beast. She can’t camouflage well in the trees, but normally the creatures don’t look up enough to notice her. She just blinks back down at them.
Van squints up at her. “That my protector up there?”
A memory flashes through the beasts skull, images flashing with the beat of her heart. Van, greeting her after she got back to school after a particularly rough beating from her father. The intonation, the prosody, the pace. It’s all so familiar that it burns.
The beast cautiously gets down from the tree, approaching Van carefully. Anytime one of the other girls steps towards her she scampers back, so the girls learn quickly not to approach. The beast gets within reach of Van, and Van sits down on a little fake stool, wincing slightly when she does.
“Hello.”
Van.
Van chokes, eyes widening. The beast gently nudges her with its head. You will hurt yourself. Be careful.
“You-” Van reaches out, cupping the beasts jaw to tilt her head up. “Can talk?”
Communicate.
Van just watches with an intrigued smile. “I hallucinated someone when you picked me up.”
You experienced… trauma. The beast pulls her head out of Van’s grip. The wilderness tries to settle those who are despondent.
“It showed me my best friend.” Van says with a meaningful look in her eyes.
Comfort through a visage.
“It seemed real.”
Most things do.
“Who lived here, before?” Van asks. “Do you remember?”
Not well. Flashes. The man who lived here is dead, though.
The other girls clearly can’t hear this discussion, because they immediately start asking after Van, wanting to know what the fuck is going on. Tai silences them.
Van nodded. “He had a bullet through his skull. We thought he killed himself with the rifle.”
He tried to kill me with it. I am the wilderness’ favourite. He did not know.
“It protected you?”
The beast chuffs, a strange thing that sounds similar to a laugh. It helped me reach my inner strength. The beast bares its teeth after saying this, claws slightly extended.
“It made you this?”
The beast attempts an approximation of a shrug. Details are hard to grasp.
Tai places a hand on Van’s shoulder. “Van, you’re talking to something that isn’t even responding right now.”
Van whips around to look at Tai, something sharp in her expression. “I’m trying to find shit out, here.”
The beast just sits calmly. She can’t communicate unless there’s belief there, even if it’s only a speck. Tai has not yet reached that point, but the darker version of her might have. A question to understand later, certainly. Van turns back to her.
“Did he have a girl with him?”
The beast flicks her ear as if swatting away a persistent fly. She makes a low groan, trying to think causing an ache in her skull that she hates to feel. She paws at her face briefly, and the wind picks up. It whispers to her, as it always does.
‘There was a girl.’
The beast looks up at Van again. Yes.
“Where is she?”
The beast makes another low noise, this time a whine. It hurts to remember. Ask the wilderness.
“The wilderness can’t talk to us,-” Van frowns. “What’s your name?”
Protector.
“That’s not gonna work, we’ll workshop that. But the wilderness can’t talk to us, protector.”
It talks to that one, the beast says, gesturing its big head towards Lottie. She has been anointed by it.
Van turns her head to Lottie. “You can talk to the wilderness?”
Lottie pulls a face, one that seems to be stuck halfway between confusion and fear. “I dunno? I hear things, sometimes.”
The beast huffs. I cannot offer you more right now. I’m sorry.
“When did the man die?” Van asks. “Last question, I promise.”
Two winters ago. The beast looks to the house. He was unprepared and did not hold reverence for the wilderness.
Van swallows heavily. “Will the winter be hard?”
Yes. But you can survive.
“How?”
With hope.
--
The beast is happy watching the humans from a distance. Now that she can understand them it’s much more interesting. Watching the way they interact, the way their dynamics press against each other. They’re fools, though.
They keep sending that boy off to hunt and he continues to do nothing but groan. He brings them game, of course, but not enough, and certainly not enough to keep them fed through the winter. The beast has half a mind to step in, but it hasn’t gotten to that point yet. The rest seem content with the food he’s been bringing, happy to just have a hot meal.
They’re all distressed though, and they’ve begun to take it out on each other. The one getting the worst of it so far is Jackie, who’s not adjusted to this living situation very well. The others are doing their best but can’t see that Jackie is, too, because her best is nowhere near the others’.
The beast watches as Jackie tries to raise spirits in the group, even with the presence of the wilderness wearing them down. It comes together with the concept of a party.
The beast feels like somewhere inside her she knows what homecoming is, but she can’t place it. They jokingly call it a doomcoming and start preparations for it. It’s intriguing to watch. The girls make little headdresses, they prepare food and drink. The beast feels like she’s witnessing an intimate ritual amongst humans.
The wilderness makes its presence known, and the beast acknowledges it with a chuff.
‘It will go badly.’ The wilderness states, sending shivers along the beast. ‘Protect them.’
That is what I do, wilderness.
It disappears again, just as quickly as it appeared. The beast focuses, now, watching for wherever it might go wrong. She immediately spots it. The girl leaving the tree line, heading straight for the cabin door with a cloth full of mushrooms. It’s certainly one way to ruin an event.
It goes downhill pretty fast once the mushrooms are in their systems. The strange girl confronting their coach and the ensuing fight, the sex, the drama. Once again the beast needs to make a decision: the cabin or the cubs.
The cabin is currently chasing after the hunter-boy, eyes wild and strange. Infected by the darkness in the wilderness. The beast calls upon the wilderness after seeing the Anointed one run through, knowing that the true wilderness, not the dark version clouding their vision with smoke, could reach her in this state.
The beast makes the choice to follow the cub, the boy, as he runs deep into the forest. He will get hurt, the beast thinks, and I cannot have that.
He slows down after a while, and when he looks back and sees the beast he startles. The beast doesn’t move, watching the boy as gently as she can manage. He watches her, as well.
“What are you? Really?”
I protect.
“That’s not what I asked.”
The beast chuffs and indicates for the boy to hop on her back. He does. Shall I take you back to the cabin?
“No, not right now.” He pauses for a moment. “Please.”
What is your name, child?
“Javi.”
The beast walks Javi towards one of her little sanctuaries, a small underground hot spring. It will protect him with the snap freeze the beast can feel coming on soon.
I was a human, once, Javi.
“Not anymore.”
No.
He runs his fingers through her fur, quietly absorbing what she said. “Could you be one, again?”
Maybe.
“Is it lonely?”
The beast shakes her head. I was lonelier before.
“I guess you have all the animals out here.” Javi muses. His weight feels like nothing to the beast and it concerns her. He’s so tiny.
Exactly. She walks him through the entrance into her cavern, ducking to indicate for him to hop off. He understands. Javi nods, finding a corner to curl himself up in.
The beast curls up next to him and provides him comfort the only way she can like this. Physical closeness. Javi settles after a while, the anxiety of everything that had happened getting to him. The beast refuses to leave until he’s well rested.
When the dawn breaks, the beast moves to go check on the humans left at the cabin. Javi stops her.
“Where are you going?”
I have to go check on the others. It is my duty.
“Will you be back?”
Yes.
The beast understands his fear and concern. She had only caught glimpses of the night before, but it was enough to warrant the heightened emotions the boy was feeling. She makes her way back to the cabin slower than she would’ve liked, checking around as she goes. She can hear the hunter-boy, Javi’s brother, calling out for him.
She doesn’t reassure him.
When she gets to the cabin, she watches as Lottie kills a bear that wandered to them. An offering from the wilderness, certainly. An apology for the dark mist that fell over them last night. The beast watches, taking easy breaths as she counts out the humans there. None are unaccounted for.
They go inside after a bit, Shauna sticking around outside to butcher the animal. Lottie comes back out after a bit, but not to go to the meat shed and simple butchery they have set up, instead walking straight towards the beast.
“Where’s Javi?”
Safe.
She tenses, narrowing her eyes. “Why isn’t he here?”
Would you be? The beast asks. If you were in his shoes?
“Maybe not,” Lottie acquiesces, “but the others are worried about him. I’m worried about him.”
He is safe. I do not lie.
“You might. We don’t know you.”
The beast growls, not threateningly but out of frustration. Lottie stumbles back and the beast immediately stops. She never had the intention to scare Lottie.
I will not force him to come back if he is not ready.
Lottie sighs, dragging a palm down her face. “Whatever.” She sits down across from the beast, eyes curious. “Do you remember anything else about the people who were here before us?”
Flashes again. The gun, the way the man aimed it at her. Screamed words. The wilderness shrouding her, surrounding her with wind and rain and power. The man, dead by his own weapon of choice. Bones breaking and reforming.
Is there something specific you’re after?
“The girl.” Lottie murmurs. “She was a friend of ours.”
A friend?
“Well-” Lottie stops, shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter. We think it was her and her dad out here, because of the plane. We miss her. I miss her.”
The beast feels the wilderness’ presence, and Lottie must feel it too, the way she immediately sits up and turns her head around. “What’s that?”
The wilderness.
“Why’s it so… present?”
It wants me to remember.
Lottie frowns. “Why don’t you?”
Hurts.
The beast rises, moving back and away from Lottie. The wilderness breathes against the beast, a memory and a vision all at once. Don’t let her stay out tonight.
“What?”
I have to go check on the boy. Do not let her stay out tonight. You will understand.
“I don’t- Wait!”
The beast has already gone, taken off in the direction of her den. She doesn’t make it all the way back there, though, looping back around after some distance was made. She did not want to be watched as she observed what happened tonight.
The cabin is filled with noise, but not from the whole group. Just the two. The beast can’t hear everything but can hear enough. It’s rough and painful to listen to. The beast twitches, not knowing how to settle the rampant anxiety filling the air.
It comes to an end with Jackie leaving the cabin with some blankets. The beast snorts, tempted to bang her head into a tree. Why didn’t Lottie listen to her?
The beast watches Jackie try and fail to start a fire, almost amused by how bad she is at it. The snow starts to appear, and the beast can feel a distinct tug in her chest. The urge to protect. She’s about to step in when Lottie leaves the cabin, approaching Jackie.
“Come back inside.”
Jackie doesn’t even look up. “No.”
“Why?” Lottie sounds so exasperated, but Jackie doesn’t visibly react.
“Shauna doesn’t want me there.”
“Shauna doesn’t want you to die, either.”
Jackie lets out a bark of laughter. “That’s why you’re out here, right?”
Lottie quietens, taking a seat next to Jackie. “It’s snowing, Jackie. You could freeze.”
Jackie shrugs, poking at the fire. She doesn’t dignify Lottie with a response. The beast feels a headache coming on, and the wilderness hasn’t even made an appearance. This is the beast’s problem, she guesses.
She can’t do anything. Not yet. The wilderness only lets her intervene if no other path works out.
“Please, Jackie.”
Jackie lets out a slow breath. “I don’t want to see her.”
“That’s okay,” Lottie reassures, “You don’t have to. Just come inside. Please?”
Jackie sighs, standing up. Lottie immediately jumps to her feet and walks Jackie back into the cabin, before returning to put out the fire. She looks up and immediately her eyes find the beasts’, and the beast almost flinches at the intensity of it.
“How did you know?”
The wilderness tells me things.
Lottie just stares, quietly taking in the beast. “Why are you protecting us?”
That is my job.
“No,” Lottie says snarkily. “Your job is to protect the wilderness. Why are you protecting us?”
The beast straightens up, standing at her full height and looming over Lottie. She stretches her muscles, making herself as intimidating as possible. Lottie doesn’t back down.
The wilderness beats her to a response. ‘She is yours as much as you are hers.’
Lottie falters. “What?”
The beast grunts, settling back down. The wilderness believes we once knew each other.
Lottie takes another step back, face tense. “Why would it believe that?”
I don’t know.
“Are you the girl? The daughter of the man that lived here?”
The beasts nose twitches, and she shakes her body, loosening the snow from her fur. I can’t remember.
“That feels like a lie.” Lottie says sharply, stepping forward and poking the beast in the chest. “You can, can’t you? You said it hurts to remember earlier, so I know you can.”
The beast frowns. I can remember but I choose not to.
“I think you’re Nat.”
The beast flinches back, a stab of pain rocking her skull. Do not-
“It hurts you to remember, right?” Lottie asks, stepping even closer. “So why did you just flinch like my words hurt?”
The beast doesn’t step back even with Lottie’s continued approach. What do you want from me, Lottie?
Lottie stops, letting out a breath that frosts in the air. “I want to know if you’re her.”
Why? The beast asks. Even if I was her then, I am this now. Why would you want that?
Lottie reaches up, cradling the beasts head in her hands, tilting it so that they are making eye contact. “Because she meant everything to me, and I’d want her in my life no matter what.” She pulls the beast down, pressing her forehead against the beast’s snout. She closes her eyes. “So tell me, please. Are you Nat?”
I think so. The beast replies. But I can’t say for certain.
Lottie lets out a wet laugh. “You certainly talk more eloquently than she did.”
The beast chuffs a laugh, pulling out of Lottie’s grip. What I say isn’t necessarily what you hear, the beast says, the wilderness filters it so you understand.
“So you could sound exactly like my Nat but I wouldn’t know?”
Yes. Similar to how I am this beast. The wilderness influences me in all aspects.
“You’re not a beast,” Lottie says, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You’re Nat.”
We don’t know that for certain.
“No, but Van is right. You need a name anyway.”
The beast nods slowly. Nat.
“Yeah, you’re Nat now.”
Nat doesn’t respond immediately, content to just watch Lottie for a moment. You should deal with that fire. Nat gestures with her head towards the firepit. I need to return to Javi.
Lottie nods. “Take care of him.”
Of course.
Nat turns and makes her way back into the trees, feeling the beam of Lottie’s eyes as she walks away.
--
Javi is quietly sitting in the den when Nat gets back. He looks up at her arrival and greets her with a small wave before returning to what he was doing. Nat approaches a little closer, noticing that he was scratching little images into the dirt.
Nice drawings.
Javi’s head shoots up briefly, a small smile on his face, before he ducks it again. “Thanks.”
They both settle into the quiet, Nat resting her head on her paws as sleep beckons her. Javi finishes up his drawing before looking over at her, face tensed in concern.
What is it?
“I, um, I found this,” he says, holding up a chain that glints in the limited light. It’s silver, and the clasp is a safety pin. It was hers, before. “Is it yours?”
Yes, the beast – Nat – replies, but you may have it. It does not fit anymore.
Javi beams at her, tugging the necklace around his neck and struggling with the clasp. Nat yearns to help, watching the way Javi’s face is quickly falling into despair. The wilderness clearly hears her, because when she raises her paws, she notices they’re more human than beast. Her claws have retracted slightly, and the movement of her digits is different.
Strange. She’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, though, and she delicately takes the necklace from Javi, clasping it around his neck. When she pulls back her hands settle into paws again, and she calms slightly.
It suits you.
Javi flushes, hiding his face in embarrassment, and Nat lets out a small huff of breath. He settles down next to her, curling up slightly. She shuffles closer to keep him warm.
“Can you take me back to the cabin tomorrow?”
Nat noses at the crown of his head, and it’s answer enough for tonight. Javi settles into sleep quickly, Nat following soon after.
Javi is awake when dawn breaks. Nat watches him move, gathering the few things that he had found or taken during his disappearing act the other night. He looks over at her with a smile. “I’m ready to go when you are.”
She nods, shaking the sleep from her bones. When they get outside, she gestures for him to hop on her back again, and he does without complaint. They walk toward the cabin, and it reminds Nat of something, a faint flicker of a memory from before all this.
“I fucking love the jungle book, man. Imagine hanging out with a bear and a snake and shit.”
“You’re so fuckin’ gone, Van, holy shit.”
Javi’s contentedly pointing out different things on the walk, occasionally holding his hand out to catch a snowflake. Nat starts humming along to the faint memory, a feeling not dissimilar to purring. Javi catches on quickly.
“You’ve seen movies?” He asks, voice coloured by surprise.
I haven’t been like this forever.
“Yeah, I just…” he cuts himself off. “The Jungle Book?”
You are not unlike Mowgli right now.
Javi laughs, and it’s quiet but it makes a swell of pride fill Nat’s chest. The boy has been fairly solemn since this all started, so hearing any noise of joy from him feels like a win. He scratches the fur at the nape of her neck.
“Does that make you Baloo?”
Close enough.
He laughs again, but quietens fairly quickly when the cabin comes into sight. His brother zeroes in on them immediately.
“Javi!”
Nat stops, letting Javi hop off of her back, and Javi is quickly scooped into an embrace. The community has drawn the attention of the rest of them, because quickly enough a group forms outside of the cabin. Nat steps backwards, slowly, but not sneakily enough.
Lottie almost materialises in front of her, tugging her head in for an approximation of a hug. “Thank you.”
He was ready to come back.
Lottie’s fingers tighten in her fur. “Thank you for keeping him safe.”
Nat doesn’t reply, content to let Lottie soothe her fur down. There’s a moment of simple, blissful quiet, before all hell breaks loose.
“Javi,” Van calls, voice almost deadly in its quiet seriousness, “Where the fuck did you get that?”
Nat steps forward, angling her body to protect Javi as he replies. “Get what?”
Van steps closer but Nat bares her teeth. “The necklace, Javi. Where did you get that fucking necklace.”
Javi makes a quiet sound, crouching slightly to be further behind Nat. “It was hers.”
“I know it was hers! How do you know it was hers.”
Nat looks at Lottie in confusion, but Lottie is just staring at Javi, tears in her eyes and mouth slightly open.
“How do you know?” Javi asked. “She only told me yesterday.”
“What?”
Javi stands up again. “It’s hers,” he says, gesturing to Nat. “It was in her den. She said I could have it.”
Van swivels to look at her. “Nat?” she asks, voice shaky.
“I was right…” Lottie mumbles, eyes getting a faraway look.
Van turns to her, shoulders raised with tension. “You knew?”
Lottie focuses back in on Van. “She had a weird reaction the other day when I asked if she was the daughter of the man who was here. Had a full, um, physical reaction when I called her Nat.”
The wilderness speaks, but only to Nat. ‘Do you see?’ it asks, ‘you have never been alone.’
Nat’s eyes sweep the group, taking in the girls that are now staring at her with horror and heartbreak in their eyes. She stands, moving backwards. It’s not right, she murmurs, I was alone. He told me I was alone.
‘He lied to you, Natalie.’
Nat – the beast – Natalie – falls over as if shot. No. No, he treated me like that for a reason.
‘There was never a reason, not one beyond his own anger and insignificance.’
Nat howls and feels the most bestial she’s felt in months. You let me forget.
‘You wanted to forget’, the wilderness insists, ‘you begged me to forget.’
The girls advance on Nat, and she scrambles back, mouth opened to growl but it comes out closer to a scream. It hurts, the noise causing her throat to tense and bleed. The scream so unfamiliar to this flesh.
Then why did you bring them?
‘Because you forgot too much. You just wanted to forget him. You forgot yourself in the process.’
Her head is pounding, slamming against the confines of her skull worse than it ever has. “This is who I am,” she grits out. “I don’t know anything else.”
The words are words. Spoken, verbal. She only knows because of the wail that Van lets out, the way Lottie sinks to her knees. The wilderness braces her, cradling her with the wind and dirt and leaves.
‘You do, it’s just locked away right now.’
“For the best.”
‘No, Natalie,’ the wilderness holds her tenderly. ‘You know your strength now. You need to be yourself again.’
Her body feels too hot and too cold at the same time. Her teeth and gums ache like she’s just had all of them ripped out. Her face throbs, like her nose was just smashed in by a soccer ball pelted into her face.
She knows what’s happening. She remembers this.
Rising on barely steady legs, she moves as fast as possible towards the plane. Her den is too far away for now, but the plane might just be far enough away that the girls can’t follow immediately. It takes her longer than usual – her legs don’t fit right anymore – but she gets to the plane before collapsing in a sweaty heap. She tilts her head skyward.
“We’re stuck here, and I can’t even protect them?”
‘I will guide you out.’
“If you don’t-”
‘I will.’
Acquiescing to the wilderness’ silent demands, Nat crawls into the plane, shaking off as much snow as she can in the process. It hurts.
‘I know.’
She doesn’t know how long she’s there for. It could be seconds, minutes, hours. Days. She can feel every shift of bone, every knit of muscle, every vein and artery and capillary. She feels all of it. She’s dribbling spit and bile, the pain so overwhelming she can’t even close her mouth or cough up the worst of it.
She doesn’t pass out. The wilderness won’t let her. She won’t let herself. To feel pain is to be human, or something stupid like that. Nat feels memories drip into her brain, but it feels like an acid-covered sledgehammer swinging into her skull at a consistent drip, drip, drip pace. She’s bleeding from somewhere, but she can’t figure out where. She can just smell the coppery blood.
Her eyes are shuttering, closing and opening at uneven intervals. She figures the transformation is almost done at this point, because the cold is starting to seep in. She can’t hear anything, the buzzing in her brain and the snow cover drowning out any other sound.
Confusion comes to the forefront of her mind. Where is she? How did she get here? She has to remind herself. Breathe in: you are the protector, you live here. Breathe out: he brought you here, he trapped you. Breathe in: you’ve been protecting them. Breathe out: let them protect you.
She feels something get draped over her. The wilderness must have sourced a pelt or something for her, just something to keep her warm as the chill sets in. She pays a quiet penance, expressing gratitude to the wilderness for providing for her, even now.
Her eyes slip closed, and consciousness leaves her body like a ghost.
--
Her eyes open to a familiar place and her whole body tenses with anxiety. She wants to move, to run, but her body feels like it’s weighed down by cinderblocks.
Her eyes meet Van’s, first. Hers are red-ringed, and the tip of her nose and her cheeks are flushed. She’s been crying. “Hell of a way to jump back into our lives, Scatorccio.”
Nat blinks, adjusting to having vision again. “Water,” she murmurs, voice scratchy. Someone else hovers a cloth over her mouth, squeezing it lightly. The droplets collect on her lips, on her tongue. She swallows gratefully. She focuses again on Van. “I do love-” she coughs and winces as she does. Her throat feels shredded. “I do love an entrance.”
Slowly rolling her head to the other side, Nat makes eye contact with Lottie, hovering above her with a wet cloth. “More water?” she asks, voice weak as she avoids Nat’s eyes.
Using all of the strength that’s currently available to her, Nat lifts a hand to clasp the hand that’s not holding the cloth. “Lottie,” she breathes, body relaxing. “Nice bangs.”
Lottie snorts before immediately bursting into tears. Nat squeezes her hand as tightly as she can in this state and Lottie squeezes back. Thick tears are rolling down her cheeks, and one drops onto Nat’s nose. She twitches at the feeling.
Van shuffles over closer. “Did you get the final shot on your old man?” she asks, reaching over to take the cloth from Lottie. She delicately holds it over Nat, squeezing just a little bit so that Nat can get some more droplets. “Personally, I think it would suck if you didn’t.”
“He-” Nat frowns, trying to wet her lips. Van squeezes some more water. “He was scared of me by the end of it.”
Van’s eyes turn to steel. “Good.”
Lottie brushes her spare hand through Nat’s hair. “Do you remember?”
Nat looks back at Lottie, making meaningful eye contact. “Everything. Yeah.”
There’s a rosy tint to her cheeks, but Nat ignores it. She turns to Van. “He almost got me, though.” Breathing hurts, the way her ribs move around her lungs. It’s not familiar anymore. “I think that’s why-” She closes her mouth and her eyes, letting out a slow breath. “I think that’s why I ended up like that.”
“He brought you out here to kill you?” Lottie asks quietly.
“Yeah.”
Van growls, something worthy of the beast Nat is. Was. “I should’ve killed him when I found out.”
“Van-”
“Nat.” Van’s voice cuts like glass. “Please.”
“It’s done, Van.” Nat mutters. “Besides, what would you have done? Honestly?”
Van grumbles but doesn’t give a proper reply, which is telling enough. Nat tilts her head back against whatever makeshift pillow they have her leaning against. She can practically hear the silent conversation Lottie and Van are having. You knew? You didn’t? why didn’t you tell me? We could’ve fixed this. We could’ve changed things. We could’ve-
“Coulda, woulda, shoulda,” Nat says tiredly, squeezing Lottie’s hand again. “What’s done is done. New focus.”
“New focus?” Lottie asks quietly.
“I can get us out of here,” Nat replies. “But I need to get my strength back first.”
“You can get us out of here?” Van confirms.
“Yeah.”
“Alright, lets get your strength back up then.” Nat opens one eye, watching Van stand and stretch. “I wanna get the fuck outta here. I’ll grab some food. Lot, you good staying with our patient?”
“Yeah.”
“Alright, good. I’ll be back.”
Van leaves, and Nat and Lottie sit in quiet company for a minute. Nat’s the one who breaks it. “You followed me.”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“I just got you back,” Lottie admits. “Why would I let you go again?”
Nat sniffles, and a tear slips out. Lottie doesn’t say anything but she does gently wipe it away. “I thought I didn’t have anyone,” Nat says, low enough that it’s just for Lottie’s ears. “That’s why I stayed out here. I forgot it all.”
Lottie moves, lying down so she can almost cradle Nat. “You’ll always have me. I swear.”
Nat tugs her hand out of Lottie’s grip, holding it up slightly and extending her pinky finger. Lottie takes it.
She closes her eyes and goes back to sleep.