Chapter 15: There's Something Truly Terrible Inside

Gaston was tempted to shoot him in the rear. He had a good shot too. The plump target was only a few arpents away and his red trousers begged for an arrow as he bent to examine an empty rabbit trap. Gaston cared for the small man like a brother but if he mentioned a certain long-haired, mule-headed female again, he was going to be skewered. Damn the consequences!

Lefou, completely oblivious to how close he was to being the giant man's next prey, smiled over a shoulder. "Guess Belle's not the only one that got away!"

He let out a heavy chortle that turned into a squeak as he flung himself to the right, barely missing Gaston's arrow. He looked over in disbelief as the projectile weapon quivered in its resting place in the stump of a tree, where his body had been seconds before. "Bad show, shootin' a fellow in the back!"

"I wasn't aiming for your back," Gaston responded darkly, replacing his longbow over his shoulder. The smaller man's eyes screwed up and he began to subconsciously rub his backside.

"Not much better." He mumbled.

Gaston strode forward and yanked his arrow from the tree bark and thrust it under the nose of his friend. "Next time I won't miss. Don't speak of Belle again."

Lefou nodded silently but his eyes spoke volumes. Gaston growled at his expression. He pushed his friend back onto the cold dirt and turned away.

They had been out for a long time. The hunt had been lush. Through Gaston's persistence, they would have many furs to sell when they went to the tiny village in the woods. They had much more than usual and it wasn't too hard to see why. Gaston needed to be active. He needed to hunt something and have the reward of getting what he sought. He needed to win. As a result, they had a small fortune in skins tucked into Lefou's wagon.

"Come on, we won't get anything off of your pathetic traps." Gaston moved to his horse and swung up powerfully. He didn't wait to watch Lefou fumble into his wagon and follow behind with the wares. He needed some space. "I'll meet you at St. Cassia. Don't get lost." With that, he motioned for the horse to move and commanded it around the tree-laden terrain.

The cold wind stung his cheeks and pulled at his hair but he rejoiced in it. It was something to feel other than the numbing pain in his chest. He took a large, meaty hand and pressed it to the hollow part beneath his breast. Belle. He shook his head and pushed forward. Damn it all.

The strong gusts were picking up. Gaston pushed back a thick black strand that had escaped his hair tie. Eventually, the thing was useless and he simply let his mane stream loosely behind him as he moved faster through the woods.

The village was close. Gaston slowed his pace, enjoying the solitude only the woods could bring.

I should have come alone, he thought for the hundredth time. He had planned on it, packing at dawn and riding silently to the edge of town. But Lefou had known, somehow, and met him with a wagon full of supplies and a somber look.

"So, how'd it go?" Lefou had asked and at the time Gaston had been almost relieved to have his friend join him. Since then, his thoughts on the matter had changed.

Lefou was not a subtle man. It was one of the things Gaston enjoyed most about him. In this instance, however, he was less funny and more suicidal.

He was relentless in his pursuit of answers about Belle and would not be side-tracked. Eventually, Gaston had related the whole affair, to the immense pleasure of his friend. Then he never heard the end of it. A bird flying away was somehow similar to Belle. A mouse burrowing into a hole in the ground to escape a hawk was liked to Belle. A sapling being crushed by an oak, a fox caught in a trap, a timid doe…it never ended.

The man was lucky he had only been shot at once!

Gaston didn't need the reminders. Belle was always on his mind, without any assistance from Lefou. He couldn't help it. Her rejection seemed to merely intensify his feelings for her. Or maybe it was also the way she had felt in his arms. He knew the first time he kissed her he would never want another woman. By the second time, she had destroyed all he thought intimacy could be and replaced it with a burning, consuming need. He was hers, whether she wanted him or not. And it infuriated him.

Grinding his teeth, the enormous man rode on deliberately, clearing his thoughts and focusing on his surroundings. If he had not been distracted he would have noticed it sooner. The silence.

Gaston lifted his head and squinted his eyes as he searched the trees for life. There was nothing to see. The only movement in the forest was the shaking of leaves by the gusts of icy wind. He sniffed the air. Something was wrong.

He moved forward slowly, pushing past broken limbs that surrounded the edge of the trees. The town should be just beyond. Instinct spiked in his stomach and he pulled out his bow before moving forward and lined it with an arrow. Then, with practiced patience, he peaked through the leaves to the open clearing of St. Cassia's small square. The sight before him caused him to pull back in shock.

Never had he seen such carnage. Gaston felt his skin pale as he looked out at the nightmare laid before him. Even from his distance, he smelled the decay. Gaston swiped a hand across his mouth in disgust. He gazed around and waited for movement. After long minutes passed, he moved in. His horse pulled back, snorting and waving his head. "Now, Barron." His master ordered, and the stallion obeyed.

The first thing Gaston noticed was the lack of bodies. The ground was soaked in blood and innards. It clumped into the dirt like a rust-colored blanket. Barron whinnied and sidestepped to avoid the defiled earth. Sighing, Gaston slide from his horse and tied him to a broken post. His boots sloshed in the grass. He didn't notice. His eyes were busy elsewhere.

Looking about himself, Gaston moved forward. He needed to search for survivors. The houses were demolished. Most lay in a rubble of wood and straw, with very few still resembling homes.

What could do this? Gaston thought in astonishment.

Broken glass crunched under his feet as he circled around one of the remaining buildings and looked inside. His heart stopped as he recognized the dwelling. It was the home of a fellow hunter, a friend.

Gaston had eaten at the table that lay ground into the floor. He had laughed by the crumbling hearth that would never smoke again. His eyes drifted over to something else and he turned his face away in pain. A broken cradle.

He forced himself to step inside slowly. Dread echoed in his footfalls and he reached out a hesitant hand. Then a scream reached his ears followed by a loud curse. Gaston swung around to stare into the hysterical eyes of Lefou.

"What, what?" The plump man repeated numbly, unable to think. "Gaston?" He finally finished, searching his friend's face for answers.

Gaston gripped his shoulders and shook him. "Keep your voice down! Help me look for survivors." He turned away quickly and swung the cradle to face him. It was empty of any child, but Gaston shook his head as his gaze drifted to the bloody blanket that lay inside.

"Come on." He ordered in a choked voice as he pulled his friend from the house that had begun to feel like a tomb.

He stepped out into the open and the smell struck him again. Death. So much death. Lefou stumbled behind him and moved to the side of the house, retching violently. Gaston strode away. He searched the remainder of the houses but again found only blood and fluids. There was no life left in the small village.

Lefou wandered over, wiping his mouth with a dirty sleeve and pressing his fingers to his nose. "What happened here?" He asked, in a quiet voice that shook slightly.

Gaston didn't answer. He simply knelt in the grass and stared at the dirt. For a moment Lefou thought he was praying and bowed his head as well. Then his massive friend lifted his head and he saw a flash of something in his eyes that he knew wasn't holy. "What?" Lefou asked.

"Wolves," Gaston answered sharply and swung up to his feet.

He moved around the grounds quickly, stopping to touch the marks in the dirt every now and then. Then he was running, swift as a stag, his bow by his side. Occasionally, as he was making his way around the perimeter of the massacre, he would bend to pick up something and examine it with expert eyes. Then he was off again.

Finally, he stopped. He had picked up a trail. He followed it slowly, crouching down low to get a better view. It led him to the edge of the grass and into the trees. Lefou followed him as best he could. He came up behind, breathless.

There, in the leaves and debris, laying in a dried puddle of blood, was a hand. Lefou gripped his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut, mentally forcing himself not to vomit. He felt his friend bend down in front of him and pried open one eye. "What do you see?"

Gaston spoke low. His friend had to strain to hear him. "Jaquan."

Then Gaston grabbed Lefou's arm and ran him to the horses. He began to unhitch the wagon and let it down with a heavy thump. Lefou watched on in disbelief and shook his head. "What are ya doin'? You can't mean to leave our furs."

"I do. Get on your horse." Gaston answered, reaching for a supplies bag from the back of the wagon and flinging it over his saddle.

"But, but the money. All our hard work." The plump man insisted, dully.

"It doesn't matter. We have to get back."

Lefou paused and crossed his arms over his chest, a stubborn look coming into his eyes. "You need to tell me what happened here."

Gaston stopped in mid-step and turned to his friend. Lefou felt a chill as he looked into his eyes. He had never seen that expression on his face before. He looked almost afraid.

"Lefou, listen to me. We don't have much time. This was a wolf attack. But it is unlike any I've ever seen. There were hundreds. Look, here. And here." He pointed to claw marks dried into the bloody earth. "It wasn't just a pack. It was a swarm." He paused and looked down at the black fur and teeth he kept clutched in his hand. He held it out for his friend to examine.

"See this? This is the tooth of a wolf. Must have lost it during the feed. But this fur," he paused and moved it into the light, "it is not from a wolf. It is not from any animal I've seen."

He turned saddened eyes to Lefou and shook his head. "It got Jaquan."

Lefou started in surprise. "How do you know?"

Gaston turned away and pointed back to the clearing by the trees. "The hand. It had his ring on it. It was his marriage band. I remember it from his wedding, the garish thing. I made fun of it then." He rubbed a hand over his mouth and gave a slight shake of the head, forcing himself to say the impossible. "I think, God, I think it wanted someone to find it."

"What did?" Lefou asked in an almost inaudible whisper.

Gaston stared deeply into the eyes of his traumatized comrade and spoke in a deep voice. "A beast."

Suddenly the horses began to stomp and both men found themselves looking over to make sure nothing was amiss. Lefou moved closer to the stallions and rubbed down their sides soothingly.

"The beast with the fur you don't recognize?" He questioned, his voice trembling.

"Yes," Gaston answered drawing closer, "but it's not just the fur. The trail to Jaquan is massive. The claws that scar the ground are impossibly large. Bigger than a bear or the great cats. I've never seen their equal. And the teeth marks…" He paused and placed a hand on Lefou's shoulder to prepare him. "They are gigantic, sharp fangs most likely. But that's not all. The bite was strategic. Just above the wrist and perfectly center. There wasn't a lot of blood from it either. I think it was done after Jaquan died, Lefou. It was left there on purpose."

Lefou began to shake and turned a sickly pale shade of green. "I think I need another minute before we go."

Gaston nodded but then flashed him a serious expression. "Fine, but hurry. Vouvant may be next. Belle…" He stopped and turned away, swinging up on his stallion.

"So that's why ya wanna leave the furs. So we can hurry back to her?"

"Do what you must, and come on," Gaston demanded and turned away from his ill friend, leading his horse to the trees.

His mind was focused. He had but one thought. Belle.

He waited for his friend to join him, while every nerve in his body demanded action. The need for haste pushed him impatiently toward the trees. As he scanned the surrounding area his eyes focused in on something in the brush. It was a faint flash of light. He moved closer and his heart began to beat faster. There it was again, a tiny sparkle. The hair on his arms began to rise as the air in his lungs hitched.

Instantly, he saw a face just beyond the trees. It glowed with an inner light and radiated electricity throughout Gaston's body. He shook his head and led his horse nearer. There, standing with her arms to her sides was a gloriously beautiful woman. Gaston sucked in a breath and involuntarily slide from his horse to stand in front of her. He felt her light stretch out around him, grasping him with a burning mystical charge.

Then she spoke in a hauntingly melodic voice.

"Hello, Hunter."

A.N. All rights go to Walt Disney.

Hello, readers! Well, who is this pretty lady? Let me know if you can guess. Another dark chapter, what are your thoughts? Feel sorry for Gaston yet? Write me a review and you won't get shot in the rump by an angry hunter!

I hope everyone is well! I've been a little sick, so I hope there aren't too many mistakes in this. I'll come back and edit when I feel less like dying! I want to thank my new reviewer, FantasyActionRomanceGirlCraze, (Awesome name!) my amazing guest reviewers, and those of you who have reviewed more than once. Your help and encouragement help to get me out of bed to write when I'm sick and all I want to do is sleep! As always, thank you all for reading, reviewing, favoriting and/or following. –S.