Belle whirled around, her nerves teetering on a knife-edge. Gulping down her fear, she turned to face the enormous eyes. It was the first time she had noticed their colour: an icy blue, sparkling in the ethereal light of the rose. His breath billowed from a gap between his fangs and he glared at her with such ferocity that Belle stepped back, her heart pounding.

'What are you doing here?' he hissed, the words stinging her.

'I...I'm sorry... I didn't know...'

'DO YOU REALISE WHAT YOU COULD HAVE DONE?'

His bellow made her cower, and she fought hard not to weep in terror. Instead, she dug her nail into her leg.

'I' was all she managed to get out before her sentence was drowned by his scream.

'GET OUUUTTT! GEEEHTTT OUUUUT!'

Belle turned a fled, her heart thudding. Breathlessly, she threw herself at the doors, which she had let herself through, slipping on a pool of blood. She screamed as he bellowed after her and skidding at the top of the stairs she threw herself down them, skipping two or three steps at a time.

As she pelted through the corridor, the armour, which before had turned slyly to look in her direction snapped all at once to watch her run, and, hearing their masters yells, they barricaded her entrance to the great hall.

'No!' one cried, 'You cannot leave yet! You cannot leave yet! Stay! Please stay!'

Metal fingers grasped her dress trim desperately, twisting the cloth so Belle was pulled back in her hurry to flee the corridor. She slammed the armour into the wall, muttering, 'Promise or no promise, I won't stay here a minute longer!' Yet more armour stood in her way, winding around her like a tangle of stubborn metal. She was almost trapped until he dress ripped, all down the back, and she heard the distinguishable voice of Mrs Potts. 'Come on, luv, calm down, and sit, lets...'

But Belle was through, she darted through a gap in their number, and pushing through, she came free and found the rings that let her into the great hall. She let herself down the first flight of stairs and jumped down the rest. Landing clumsily, she heard the rampage echoing from the West Wing and fear gripped her, making her stand still for an instant. Tears leaked down her face, and relief coursed through her body. She was free. She called her horse, who, for the past day had been grazing at random outside the gates, looking up mournfully to where both his mistress and master had disappeared. He only had had to move once, when the wolves began to gather, and only then.

Belle was in luck, for as she came to the gate, she found Philippe looking up alarmed at the rage issuing from the castle tower. A distant roar reached Belle and it proved to be the motivation she need to run once more. Seizing the gates, she threw them open, letting them clammer against the walls. They stayed open, swinging mournfully as bell rushed through them and threw her arms around the neck of her horse, who nuzzled his mistress' chocolate curls daintily. Shaking, Belle fumbled to tighten the straps on Philippe's saddle and bridle. This done, she swung herself up and urged the horse on.

Only when the strangled yells pass did she allow Philippe to slow to a trot.

Finally she got down and leaned against a tree, heart pounding, breath caught tight in her chest. Shuddering, she pressed cool snow into her face to calm herself, and, patting Philippe's flanks, she wrapped a blanket around herself and closed her eyes.

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'Do you have any self control at all?'

Seth glared at the teapot, Mrs. Potts. Once, a round, friendly looking woman, his ex-tea lady was certainly formidable in her own temper.

'I hope you're happy!' she sniffed, her lecture drying up. It was a long time since she had ranted at him for fifteen minutes non-stop, and Seth's temper had been worn to merely a thread. He was ready to release it in about three seconds.

Turning, he growled to warn her that he was close to seething.

'It wasn't my fault.' His voice shook.

'Of course not!' Mrs Potts's porcelain flushed pink, and the lid which had once been her bonnet lifted as she bounced in sheer irritation. Steam boiled as she glared at him with glassy eyes.

Seth's blood boiled, and his fist was ready to shatter her. His paw came down on her fragile mass, and he began to curse roar when the porcelain held.

'Idiot.' Lumiére had sauntered in, and his wax eyes were alight.

'You should remember the spell keeps us intact. He glanced at the rose and winced as five petals fell at once. 'But it costs you.'

Seth roared and grabbed the glittering mirror. 'Show me the girl.' He snapped.

The surface of it's crystalline surface glimmered teasingly at him, before shimmering. As if he were looking through a window, Seth beheld Belle. At first her eyes had looked closed, and he had the impression that she was asleep, when her eyelids flickered and she sat up he frowned, and realising something was wrong squinted closer.

In his own form, his eyes were a good deal sharper than was necessary, though they still retained the azure of his human eyes. As he watched, thin, skinny dogs stalked through the trees, their jaws loose, yellow eyes hungry.

Seth knew the wolves in the forest near would die in their hundreds in Winter, as so many things did in the harshness of the cold. The ones that surrounded Belle looked hungrier than ever, and, though she hadn't seen them, it was clear she felt something was wrong.

Seth cringed as he watched her mouth call 'Hello?'

His eyes flicked to her horse, who was eying the trees, ready to bolt had he the need, but since deserting his master, Philippe looked determined to stay with his mistress.

Seth put the mirror down, screwing up his eyes. A mental battle ensued, ending with compassion emerging victorious. Seth sighed, a harsh, angry sigh and bolted past his ornament-servants.

He only hoped the wolves wouldn't get to her before he did.

Contrary to what the Beast had thought, Belle was well aware of the wolves. Their hair lank and missing in patches, limp jaws hanging open with expressionless hunger.

Their flanks and chest were skeletal, the skin clinging close to almost bare rib cages.

They were hardly even hunting like a pack, being reduced to circling and snapping at her ankles. Philippe had twice made to bolt away, but had always stopped short at seeing his helpless mistress.

Seizing a stray branch, Belle had so far fended off three wolves from her horse, which she knew was their real prize.

Philippe had killed one. It lay on the snow, blood hardly trickling, it's backbone sticking grotesquely out from its fur. It was so thin Philippe's hoof had killed it with one blow, and three among them were already wounded.

Belle backed up, ready to leap into the saddle and run, but her hand on the leather warned them and they finally stopped playing with her and closed in, eyes glinting maliciously.

Belle made the decision and hauled herself into the saddle, digging her heels hard into Philippe's flanks.

The horse jerked forward with relief, plunging through the stick-like wolves with ease. They seemed stunned at first, watching their escaping prey was puzzlement, before one snarled and they gave chase, licking slavering jaws.

Belle hurried on, looking back, she saw the distance between them being eaten by hungry limbs. They may be weak, but they were starving and Belle alone would satisfy them for at least a couple of days.

Looking back cost her as a branch snagged her cape and she was forced back, Grabbing the horn of the saddle, Belle undid the catch that held it around her throat and allowed it to slip away from her shoulders.

She watched as the wolves snaked around it, one sniff enough to hunger them further for it bore both her and Philippe's scent.

This look back cost her greatly, for she unwittingly had driven Philippe into a lake, which had frozen over. Philippe stood there, hooves slipping precariously on the ice before a cracking, snapping noise drowned the silence. The ice beneath them caved in and Belle slipped from the saddle, urging her horse to get to shore.

The cold bit into her and her limbs numbed almost instantly. Belle's eyes rolled as she gripped the edge of the ice. It rolled way as she scrabbled for purchase, and two loud yelps urged her on as she realised the wolves had caught up with her. She didn't dare look back, lest her misfortune greaten. Two kicks to stay ashore cost her the boots she wore for riding, and a heave upward cost her two inches of skin which came away with the sticky ice. She howled with pain, but pulled herself up anyway, rubbing her knee as she did.

She looked up, and saw Philippe, struggling with the reins. They were entangled in a great oak's branches, and the horse was straining desperately, eyes wide and fearful as it tugged away from it's restraints. Belle walked to him and seized another branch for defence. She did it just in time, the straggly wolves were hauling themselves ashore, the looking in their eyes beyond hunger. Now they had to eat, there was no way an ordeal like that could end without meat.

Fearfully, Belle stood, steadfastly in front her horse, mouth fixed in a determined line. Her limbs were frozen stiff, bare feet dead white amongst the drifts of snow she stood in, ankle-deep.

The first wolf charged and she batted it's muzzled away hard with the brunt of the stick, squealing. The second and third moved in at the same time and while Belle worked forcefully to stun them, a third reached past her blows to grab her ankle in it's jaws. She tripped and fell, ankle twisting in the wolf's jaws and she screamed, bashing the brute's neck with her weapon. He rolled off her, growling, and came back at her, eyes hungry, teeth bared. Blood stained his yellow teeth and Belle knew it was her own. As the wolves closed in, Belle struggled to calm a panicking Philippe, who was rearing agitatedly. The wolves pouched, and Belle raised her arm, closing her eyes.

But no impact came. No thud or snap. She heard growling, and opened her eyes fearfully. Brown fur now stood in her way, not grey or white. The beast stood over her, his hulking form arched menacingly. He growled and the wolves pounced, howling their battle cries.

He flung them from him, hauling their scrawny, starved bodies into the lake, where they floundered. Jaw sank into the Beast's flesh and he roared in pain. Belle, regaining her wits, had the thought to fend off stragglers who chose not to battle the Beast. She stunned an attacker, knowing it forcefully around the head. It fell, lying on the snow, blood trickling from its jaw. Dazed, it limped away, whimpering, to be replaced by another. This one was healthier, stronger, and its eyes were hungry, focused on Philippe. Belle moved forward, beating it away, yelling as loud as she could. Eventually it scarpered and Belle turned determinedly, intending to come to the aid of her rescuer.

He had collapsed. His fur was tousled by a fresh breeze, and wolves nuzzled at bloody wounds. They were stragglers. All the other had left, deciding, despite their hunger to find easier prey. Belle beat them, knocking a last-attempt survivor dead, and scaring another.

Silence closed in, and Belle looked carefully at the blood-stained battle ground, her brown eyes filling with tears.

A/N Trudi Rose kindly pointed out to me that the name 'Seth' is neither French nor for royalty. My explanation for this is that, rather than calling him 'Beast' Belle can call him by a name. It isn't his real name... that will be revealed towards the end (I intend to go a little over what the movie showed us) having said all that do you think perhaps that "Beast" is a good reminder of what he really is? Should I get rid of the name Seth? Reviews are the key!!