Chapter 7: It's a Shortcut
The sun was setting and Maurice was most decidedly lost. It had been hours since he spied any recognizable landmarks and he was beginning to think his shortcut had not been so short after all. His useless, broken compass had long been abandoned and thrown into the back of the wagon in disgust. His horse, Philippe, stood lamely in a clearing. Huge boulders and broken limbs blocked his way, again, and the inventor felt himself shiver in the frosty evening air.
The forest was starting to come to life with the arrival of the moon. Eerie noises began to echo within its branches. There were some he knew, having researched many creatures in his scientific studies. The hoot of the short-eared owl, low and mournful, was as familiar as the whinny of his horse. He could recall the rubbing of cricket legs and the rustling of nightjar feathers. Small prey could be heard scrambling through the dead leaves on the cold ground and burrowing into the earth for warmth. In a hidden corner the persistent rummaging of a sanglier, most likely searching for mushrooms or berries for her piglets, caused a terrible trembling of branches and a small shower of twigs and foliage. All this, though slightly unsettling in the looming darkness, was not foreign to the inventor. The howling in the distance, however, was something new. New and menacing.
He had heard the sound of wolves many times during his rural upbringing. In fact, in his youth, he had hunted them with his father more than once. He had felt quite safe surrounded by a large group of men and dogs. He was the predator, so to speak, and had done his part to hold back the growing population of wolves from his small village. Now, he felt strangely like prey. He heard the wolves, so many, he thought. He counted with a trained ear. Far more than should be in any one pack. They wailed wildly, not in song but in a strange chaos. The howls carried frantic, possibly manic, in the night.
Then the growl came. It was a new sound in an old forest. It echoed hauntingly and seemed to grow stronger as it reached across the trees. It rumbled low and became impossibly louder the closer it came to the lone man on his wagon.
The forest grew suddenly silent. No tree shook, no creature breathed. The inventor and his horse stood still. Wild-eyed in the dim light they searched for the creature who had made that awful sound. The wolf pack had ceased its chorus of disarray and were now as quiet as a tomb. The moon itself seemed to hold back its beams and darkness befell the forest. It was impossible to discern where the animal was located. The inventor's eyes dashed from side to side, following the growl as it enveloped the woods and swallowed its inhabitants. Again it sounded. This time it caused the ground to shiver. Impossible, thought Maurice sensibly. No creature could force the earth to shake. And yet it did. The dried leaves on the ground crackled and crunched as though stepped on by invisible boots.
The inventor tightened his hold on Philippe's reins, habitually in sync with his terrified horse. He knew before the animal did that it would bolt. Preparation did not help, though, when the horse did just that. With a thrash of his mighty head, the horse broke the silence of the forest and let forth a pitiful moan. His shoed hooves beat the ground and knocked against the limbs blocking his way. Thorn and thicket obstructed his path but his instinctual need to flee pushed him forward. The spell on the forest was broken and it erupted into pandemonium. It seemed as if all the birds took flight at once, flapping their wings in panic and leaving behind a mist of feathers falling to the ground. The creatures of the earth scurried madly. The screech of claws scratching the frozen dirt and rock resonated jarringly. The sound sent Philippe into a deeper panic. He beat against the trees wildly with his front legs, but each time was pulled back by the weight of the heavy wagon still attached to him.
"Calm, Philippe, calm!" Maurice ordered, leaning far forward and patting his side desperately. The horse swung his thick neck back and forth, no longer in control of his own actions. He pounded the earth, whining loudly over the chaotic racket surrounding them. The growl of the unknown beast continued, only this time it seemed closer.
The inventor felt the panic rise in his throat until it almost choked him. Then he made an impulsive decision. Jumping from the seat of the wagon, the inventor clamored to the icy ground with a thud. Carefully avoiding the out of control animal, he reached a hand between the horse and wagon and set about separating the two. Twice he was almost trampled. On the third try, the latch came loose and released the terrified animal. With all his strength the old man reined in the horse. He pulled Philippe's face to look him in the eye and pat the side of his neck.
"Alright, Philippe. Calm now. There's a good boy." He soothed and rubbed a hand down the horse's side. The animal bounced with impatience and shook his hair out violently. The inventor swung haphazardly with his free arm, pulling the horse behind him. Finally, he pushed past the blockage. He didn't pause when the sound came again, though it was definitely coming closer in the darkness of the forest.
They were making progress. After having pushed passed the boulder and the majority of the brush, the way seemed clearer. If his horse had been less agitated he might have been able to ride him, but in its current state, it was better not to try. Instead, he soothed him and moved forward as quickly as possible. When at last they seemed to have put some real distance between themselves and the creature they came upon another impossible obstacle. A lake, frozen in the early frost and glistening in the trembling moonlight.
"Damn!" The inventor exhaled loudly and began scanning the perimeter for an alternate escape. There was none. Thick weeds and thorns grew between the trees and blocked every possible route. Even if he could squeeze by, Philippe certainly could not.
The howls of the wolves picked up. Their unfeasible numbers seemed to grow so that the inventor could not count them if he wanted to. Worse than the howls was the ruckus of paws against hard dirt and moss. They were coming in droves. Panic washed over the man and his horse. Philippe pulled from Maurice and moved ahead to the frozen waters. Before he could be stopped, the animal slammed onto the ice, sliding across the shimmery surface and knocking his head against the rock-like shell.
Maurice watched in terror as the horse attempted to stand only to fall back on its hindquarters. Each time it attempted to rise it pushed itself further away. As Maurice moved to step onto the lake himself, the ice began to crack around Philippe. "Dear, God!" The man moaned as he watched the surface open and the horse struggle against the pull of the frozen water below.
Then the growling was upon them.
From the outskirts of the lake, from the muddy recesses of the trees, came the wolves. They crept from every corner, their red eyes glinted in hunger as they watched the trapped horse with devilish interest. Maurice flattened himself to the ground, not even feeling the cold wetness seep into his clothes. He held his breath as he watched them draw closer.
The horse, still struggling to escape his frozen grave, blinked madly at the slew of wolves surrounding him. They began to bare their teeth at him from the water's edge and snap their jaws. The snarls became thunderous and the inventor covered his ears against the noise. Then the sound of cracking branches and knocked over trees crashing to the ground forced him to look up in horror.
For a moment the inventor forgot the wolves who gathered by the lake. He forgot about his poor horse struggling for his life. He forgot about everything but the giant animal in front of him.
It was a beast, one that had never been recorded by man before. It was massive, with shaggy black hair and flashing demonic eyes. Without intending to, the inventor began to catalog the creature. He studied it with the eyes of a scientist. It appeared to have the wide forehead and horns of an African steer but the rest of its face was a mish-mosh of different animals. The snout of a stag. The wide mouth of a lion. It had the thick fur of a bison, an animal Maurice had only seen in pictures. Its enormous shoulders and bulging muscular build could be any number of beasts. The great cats perhaps, though it was possibly closer to the prehistoric bone structures his colleagues were constantly digging up. A thought entered his mind that here was a new discovery that the world was not ready for. Would never be ready for.
Its sudden movement shook Maurice out of his reflections and back to the horrifying present. It had begun pacing back and forth on the bank, gazing upon Philippe impatiently. Even at the great distance from across the lake, Maurice could see intelligence in its face. It snarled deeply, exposing long sharp teeth.
It swung its head back and gazed at its companions before unexpectedly snatching one frothing wolf by the throat, shaking its yelping form, and tossing it onto the ice. It immediately broke through the surface and began to sink. Without a second glance at the drowning animal, the beast moved further down the lake. He repeated his attacks, grasping one gray wolf after another and heaving their pathetically protesting bodies onto the frozen water. Mercilessly it observed them sink to their icy graves. A ripple of dread ran through the remaining creatures as they waited for the beast to deal their deaths. The inventor gazed on, jaw slack in shock. The beast seemed to be judging the thickness of the ice!
With one last test, the evil creature tossed a final whimpering wolf onto the hard, solid water and watched it land with a sickening thud. It did not sink but lay prostrate upon the ice. The beast gave a satisfied grumble and stepped forward, its head bent in purpose. It followed the path of his fallen pack mate straight to the still thrashing horse. It was careful. It scrutinized the ice as it moved, laying padded claw to the surface gently, steadily, with calm restraint. It paused once to redirect its course when the ice seemed to give, then it resumed. When it was close to poor Philippe it let loose a low snarl and snapped its mighty jaw. The horse went still. The inventor couldn't tell if it was from fear or, god willing if it had finally succumbed to the numbness of the cold. No matter the cause, the horse had stopped its protests and was quiet. In fact, the wolves had silenced as well. The only sound was the breathing of the beast and the occasional drop of saliva from his snout to the ice.
Then it pounced. The beast, claws massive and teeth like razors, attacked the stricken steed with fervor. It ripped into the horse with unrestrained vehemence, tearing the hide and flesh into long sopping strips of sinew and tendon. It feasted on the animal. Gore, red and pink splashed upon the glistening waters façade and spread in a thick, sticky blanket upon the ice. The beast lapped and sucked at the blood and viscera, chewing on the bowels with visible elation.
Maurice watched in horror as Philippe was devoured. His hands gripped his hair and tears rained freely down his weathered cheeks. The sight was horrific. Never had he seen a creature enjoy the kill so completely. It moaned in pure pleasure as the inventor felt himself collapsed to dirt in despair. Rolling onto his back he gazed up at the trees overhead and wept silently.
The sound of the wolves growing restless brought him from his grief with a start. If he wanted to escape with his life it was time to move. Sliding down quietly away from the water's edge, the inventor pushed through the thick branches. He felt himself slip deeper into the trees. He pushed farther from his wagon, sure that the monster tracker would trace his meal back to it. He submerged himself into the darkness. Behind him, he could hear the wolves begin to grumble about their lack of food. Then the mighty growl of the beast quieted all. Finally, there was silence, followed by a terrible crunching. Maurice stumbled off numbly, aware that the sound that filled the night was the chewing and gnawing of his old friend's bones.
A.N. All property belongs to Walt Disney
Hello, readers! Are you all okay and with me? I'm sorry you had to read that! Let's have a moment of silence for poor Phillipe. As you guys have probably guessed this is a different take on our favorite story, so we are going off course from this chapter on. I hope you'll stick with me!
I want to thank a new reviewer frozengirl9712 for taking the time to review, I really appreciate it! As a reward for any new reviews, I promise not to brutally dispatch any more beloved pets for the remainder of this story. As always, thank you for reading, reviewing, favoriting and/or following! - S