Owen sat in the snow, facing away from his castle with a limp rope leading back to the post restraining him. Two trails of frozen tears split his cheeks. His rear was only slightly colder than the rest of his body, but he didn't bother changing position. His head and plates were hanging, and he seemed to be generally deflated, if one could be emotionally deflated. He wasn't really thinking about the frostbite or his emotional turmoil, though he was certainly being torn apart. He was mostly distressed because of Claire's death, and couldn't imagine going on without her. What did it matter whether he froze to death now? If anything, he'd be with Claire, and he'd be able to tell her how sorry he was for letting his animal instincts take over, essentially murdering the person he loved most in the world, though he didn't intend to. This thought rang in his head over and over.
You killed Claire. You killed Claire.
He didn't try to block it out, because he knew it was true. Part of him didn't want to admit that he was welcoming this suffering, but he was sure that he deserved to be punished for his crime. It wasn't like he had a reason to live, anyway. He may as well fester in this dismal reflection, until his body ceased to function in the extremely cold weather.
"Owen!"
He lifted his chin a little, wondering if he was hallucinating. The voice came again.
"Owen!"
He turned and saw Claire dashing through the snow, arms extended and fingers spread. His jaw dropped, and he tugged on his rope as she approached him. The post shot out of the ground unexpectedly, smacking him on the back of the head, and he stumbled over to his wife dizzily.
"Claire? . . ."
She untied the rope, then ran her hand over his scales.
"Owen! You're freezing!"
He sniffled.
"I thought you were dead . . ."
Claire knelt in front of him, draping her shawl across his shoulders.
"No, I was just unconscious. What have they been telling you?"
Owen gulped.
"They . . . Claire, even though you're alive, what I did could have gotten you killed."
"But it didn't."
"Claire, I hurt you."
"And I clubbed you with a stick once. Let's just call it even."
Owen gave a sad rumble as she smiled comfortingly.
"Claire, I don't think this is very funny."
"Don't be so dour. You know I love you, right?"
"Yeah."
"Then come inside and be with me. You know I don't want to lose you."
"Lose me?"
"If you stay out here any longer, you'll freeze."
He wondered if she had guessed his secret plan. By the look on her face, he could tell that she was going to try and convince him to follow her, regardless of his stubbornness. She was methodical in her approach.
"Owen, aren't you happy to see me?"
"Happier than I can say."
"And I'm happy to see you, too."
"I hope so."
He shook his head quickly.
"I mean-"
"Come inside, Owen. Let's be happy together. I need you. Don't let me down."
He gulped.
"What if the villagers don't want me? . . . What if I deserve to freeze for what I did to you?"
Claire held him by the cheeks and gave him her "serious look".
"Owen, if you die, I will be sad. Do you want to make me sad?"
"No."
"Then come inside."
Reluctantly, he followed her through the front door, back hunched and tail dragging. She led him to the dining hall, where most of the villagers had gathered. Some stood up to greet Claire, looking relieved that she was awake, but when Owen appeared behind her, they stumbled backwards in fear. He sat down behind her, and she took a deep breath.
"The red demon you've been told about does not exist. The dinosaur living in the woods has always been none other than Owen. He is not a monster, and he does not wish to harm any of you. He's been living in fear ever since he took on the curse of another, and because you refused to look past the shape that was forced upon him, he was exiled. He's spent fifteen years trying to reconnect with you, and that was only made possible when he became human again. Now, he's changed back, and he's fallen prey to your prejudice and unfounded hatred. He's still the same Owen he always was, and always has been, so if you don't want to accept that he's a dinosaur now, you can very well get up and leave. This castle is our home, and I will not stand for this blatant discrimination towards someone who's welcomed you into his dwelling at great risk to himself. If you want charity, you'd better be prepared to show your gratitude."
Silence. Claire's face remained stern, but her heart was racing. Could this be the beginning of an insurrection? Would she find herself hanging in the middle of town tomorrow, or else impaled on a wooden stake? She didn't get the chance to find out, for the side door opened, and Fleur came skipping into the room with her caretaker. She stopped when she caught sight of Owen. After a beat, her face brightened, and she rushed over to hug his snout, unaware that at least five people were trying to hold her back. She collided with the dinosaur and pet him like a horse, laughing gleefully as his nostrils twitched.
"I knew it was you, Owen! I knew you saved me, and I knew it wasn't a dream! Aren't I clever for figuring it out? Did I pass your test?"
Owen blinked, still aware of the villagers watching him.
"It wasn't a test, Fleur. I was trying to keep it a secret."
"But why?"
"It's hard to explain."
She put her hands on her hips.
"Well, you should have trusted me not to tell on you. All you had to do was say you didn't want anyone to know you saved my life, and I wouldn'a said anything to anyone."
Owen gulped.
"You kind of just did."
Fleur's face fell.
"Oh . . . Well, why is that a secret, anyway? What's so bad about helping others?"
Claire turned to look at him, just as surprised as everyone else in the room.
"You saved her?"
Owen gave a sad rumble and looked down.
"I used the magic flower to cure her. That's why I'm a dinosaur. I didn't want you to know because I thought you'd be angry."
"For saving someone's life?"
He batted his eyes.
"Well, when you put it like that . . ."
From the back of the room, Sableuse stood up and cleared her throat.
"Owen, are you trying to say that you're a dinosaur because you saved Fleur's life?"
He gulped.
"Well, I was trying NOT to say it, but it's true . . ."
Floraison stood up and stamped her foot.
"Impossible! James said you're a monster who eats children and steals voices."
"Yeah, well, he also said that Claire was dead, so I think we can deduce that maybe he's wrong sometimes," Owen snapped.
"James has been serving this village all winter!" an old woman barked.
"So has Owen!" Claire argued, "James may have good intentions, but sometimes, he makes mistakes."
"How do we know you're not being possessed by this monster?" a burly man grumbled.
Owen flinched at the remark, but Claire stood her ground. She opened her mouth to make some nasty (and probably unhelpful) comment, but Sableuse stepped in front of her defensively.
"Claire doesn't act like a woman possessed. I think we'd know if there was something wrong with her. Her story adds up, and if she's telling the truth, then we're in the wrong. When has the red demon of James' story ever harmed us directly? The only evil deeds we can attribute to his name are secondhand accounts, and most lack sufficient evidence to be believed. Claire came to us a year ago saying the red demon was friendly, and we laughed at her. It's no wonder she tried to hide this from us. Now, it's perfectly possible that James is right, but it's also equally possible that Claire is. If we don't give her a fair shot, we could end up fighting for the wrong side. I know we all trust James, but he's not the only one who's done right by us. Look at where we are now. Claire invited us into her home, and Owen did the same, knowing full well that if his secret got out, we'd turn on him. But we're not animals. We don't attack someone just for having a tail and horns. Not when he's been so kind to us."
Owen smiled gently, but his face fell when James entered the room. Maboul slithered behind him, eyes shifting from villager to villager.
"With all due respect, Miss Sableuse, I have witnessed what this monster can do. He murdered my friend and stole his voice."
Claire crossed her arms.
"And did you actually see this happen?"
"My friend disappeared and the demon came back with his voice. How do you explain that?"
"Owen was always your friend, right from the start. He changed shape because of the fairies that cursed him in the place of his father."
James scowled.
"He almost killed you."
"That was an accident."
"I'm sure."
"James, you threatened to shoot him. Don't you think his panic attack may have had something to do with the fact that he was terrified of being murdered?"
Owen stepped forward, trying to stop his knees from knocking.
"James, give me a chance to prove myself. I promise I'm not here to eat your soul or steal your voice or whatever. You trusted me when I was human, so why can't you give me the opportunity to change your mind? All I'm asking for is one chance. Just one."
"And if I'm right?"
"Then I'll surrender."
James narrowed his eyes.
"Very well, but I won't allow you to remain in close proximity to your prey. You'll sleep in the stables."
Claire's jaw dropped.
"That's ridiculous! Owen is-"
Owen held her back nervously.
"No, it's okay. If that's what he wants, I'll do it."
Claire turned to him with disbelief. She looked like she was on the verge of a mental breakdown.
"But you're my husband! You're not just some kind of animal . . ."
He nodded.
"I know, but we need to ease them into it, remember?"
She gave him a worried look. He winked.
"It's okay. I'll be fine."
But later that night, as he lay shivering in the stables, he wondered if he had made a terrible mistake.
