As soon as the Woodsman finished his task he stood back to examine his work. He was pleased with the results. He saw no major mistakes and it felt sturdy. It wasn't until after his examination that he noticed the Beast had fallen asleep from exhaustion. He didn't even know that the Beast was capable of sleep. Meaning he could become tired. A tool the Woodsman planned to use one day. Until then... the Beast looked so vulnerable in his current state. It was so strange to see yet, in a bizarre way, it was a little adorable too. He had to remind himself he was watching a being whose name was literally THE Beast. And said Beast has killed who knows how many lost souls. A part of the Woodsman yelled out that even he, himself, had helped destroy the remains of so many of those lost souls. No. He was tricked. He didn't know. It was The Beast who manipulated him. He needed to be cautious.
The woodsman began to feel the cold seep into his skin. He leaned over and plucked the firewood from the floor and quickly filled the stone fireplace. With a single match, the Woodsman was able to start a fire. The room was filled with a warm orange glow. After watching the flames for a couple of minutes, the Woodsman slowly turned his attention back to the Beast. He noticed all the black goo that leaked onto the floor from the Beast's wound. The dark gunk covered a large portion of the pelt rug, seeping through to the wooden floor. Said wooden floor was now slowly absorbing the inky darkness. It was definitely going to stain the wood. The Woodsman hoped that he could at least save the rug. He needed to move the Beast to reach the rug, which was steadily being consumed by the nightmare muck every minute.
The Woodsman grabbed the Beast's legs and expected to feel fur under his hands. What he felt was far from fur. He felt icy, hard, and cavity covered flesh just under his own fingertips. The Woodsman jumped back with a gasp. He attempted to catch his breath before slowly creeping closer to the Beast once more. Prepared this time, he once again got a hold of the Beast's legs, refusing to acknowledge the unsettling feeling, and yanked with full force. He successfully dragged the Beast off of the rug. They were both close to one of the bedrooms now. Sighing the Woodsman decided he might as well get the Beast completely off of the floor. He would simply place the Beast in his bed and he would sleep in his daughter's room. He stood there as he reminisced about his daughter. Picking flowers together, hiding in fall leaves, collecting firewood. He had to quickly shove the memories back into the darkest corners of his mind. He needed to focus on the now.
Crouching down he placed one arm under the Beast's legs and the other under his back. The Woodsman took a couple of deep breaths before hauling the Beast off of the floor. The sudden motion didn't wake the poor Beast. Quickly the Woodsman moved to his bedroom. Once again, the Beast's antlers made it slightly difficult to get through the door frame, but he managed to get them both in the room. He dropped the Beast into his bed and paused. Absorbing the strangest sight he had ever seen. The Beast was asleep in his bed. The Woodsman shook his head. He placed a blanket over the Beast then swiftly left the room.
The Woodsman stooped down and peeled the rug off of the floor. He watched a glob of sludge drip off of it. Seeing the damage he decided it would be best to take it to the river to clean. He snatched his bag off of the floor and threw it on, grabbed the lantern out of habit, before exiting the cabin. Leaving the sleeping Beast alone once again.
The first thing the Beast felt was a brisk coldness. Next was an intense stinging pain in his arm. Lastly, alone. There was no Woodsman near him. Laying there The Beast cringed from his last interaction with the Woodsman. He had a blurry memory of him begging and crying to the Woodsman. Growling, the embarrassment quickly turned to rage. It was the Woodsman's fault that the Beast was in this inferior state.
The Beast pushed himself up in bed. Bad idea. He flinched as the pain in his arm spiked. He grabbed the cover and pulled it tightly around him as he forced himself to climb out of the bed. He couldn't help but shiver from the cold. The loss of blood wasn't helping his case. Expertly maneuvering his antlers, he bent down and through the doorway. Once he entered the living room he noticed the fire and his blood stain on the wooden floor. The Beast could have sworn that there was a rug there before but his memory was greatly distorted from his previous delusional state. Maybe there was never a rug, to begin with. Although, that would explain the Woodsman's being absent. Frustration slowly started to build inside the Beast. He would have to bid his time before he can release his anger.
A sharp pain bit his soul. He arched over in response. His flame needed to be fed. The Beast sluggishly looked around the small cabin. His lantern was nowhere in sight. The Woodsman must have it. Shaking his anglers he shuffled closer to the fire. It felt nice against his cold skin. He sat in front of it as he gazed into the flames. It slowly transfixed him. He pulled the cover tighter around himself. He awaited the Woodsman's return.