Anytime I refer to the creature using he/him pronouns is a mistake. Amy is still bent-set on calling the beast "it".

(:)

Aiole has been joined with holding me at gunpoint by one of my readers… who now has some nuclear tools and Gibles, and I am terrified for my life.

Help. Griffin, if you have another nuke on hand-

(:)

"Amy?"

Time seemed to freeze around Amy, and she stared at the beast, horrified. Her ears rung, disbelief tugging at her senses. She… she had to be hearing things. She had to be! There was no way-

It was a beast, a creature. Smarter than it appeared, yes, but smart enough to communicate, not to mention know her name? Unheard of. The only behemoths that could speak were not even monsters, but people twisted up in a body that was not their own, due to spirits. But they hadn't been seen in fifty years, and the myths never said that-

No. The stress of the day was just getting to her, making her hear things… Maybe the beast drove its victims mad. Because, there was no way she just heard what she thought she heard. She was not facing off against a Skinwalker. Just a normal, never-before-seen beast that was not sentient. Just…

…like an overgrown puppy dog. Amy stared into the beast's eyes, taking in its peaceful posture, and memorizing the calm look in its dark green irises. Her stance lowered, staff pointing at the ground between them and not at it, and her shoulders slowly relaxed. The way it gazed at her… so full of love and devotion-

A second later everything clicked, and Amy broke eye contact, stiffening right back into a fighting stance and snarling at the creature. "No." She uttered in command, snarling at it. "I am not weak-minded! You cannot control me! You have no power!" Her chest heaved, and tears of frustration beaded at her eyes, but she glared, pinching her gaze tightly to threaten him properly.

The creature blinked at her, pain flickering through its gaze, almost as though it actually could feel her dismissal of its feelings, but…

It's manipulating my mind. Making me think I'm hearing things that aren't there. If they're indeed a skinwalker, they shouldn't have dabbled with spirits. They deserve what's coming. Amy threw her spear at the beast again, watching as it sunk deep into its shoulder, and the behemoth flinched back, trying to dodge away from the pain, but the spear remained stuck. It's fingers reached up to grab the spear and likely pull it out, but they froze before they ever reached their destination.

The entire creature froze.

But then something flicked behind the beast's eyes, a switch went off, and its pupils shrunk once more, and a grotesque roar burst from its throat, and it turned it's entire attention back to Amy, lips curling back to reveal haunting teeth that gleamed in the limited moonlight. And just like that, his friendly demeanor was gone.

The change was so immediate, that, even though she half-expected it, Amy found herself blinking in surprise. She barely ducked under the fist that punched where her head had been just a second before, threatening to crush her beneath his outstretched palm. Amy turned her messy duck into a roll across the ground, grabbing the nearest tree trunk and scurrying up it, gasping for breath as the creature let out a shriek, slamming into the base of the tree, claws digging into the bark.

Amy trembled on her perch from the quaking, shoving herself off the tree and onto his back, snagging the spear in hand and giving it a mighty twist. To her absolute horror, her spear broke off at the tip, leaving the sharp stone buried deep into its shoulder, and left her with a useless stick. Oh, chief.

Amy gasped as the creature's arm stretched around his body, snagging her wrist and throwing her up into the air with a sickening crack from its arm, snapping back to normal length. Amy slammed into the ground, the remains of her spear clattering a good distance away. Her temple felt like it was on fire, throbbing greatly. As she started to shove herself to her feet, she trembled, her forehead screeching at her to stop moving. Before she could even begin to consider listening to it, a fist curled around her ankle.

This time, the creature did not let go, slamming her into the nearest tree, then against the ground, then a different tree.

Amy spluttered as pain flared up across her body, sand managing to get stuck in her mouth whenever her face met the jungle floor. Dizziness took over when the beast finally stopped, holding her up like she was a broken toy. She dangled upside down, staring at its face, taking deep breaths in an effort to regain control over her mind.

So. She thought bitterly, snarling best she was able at the creature. Trigger it, and it loses its manipulative grasp on me. It really is nothing but a beast after all.

Even as she glared at the creature, thinking of how inhuman it was, it's eyes softened again, though this time the gaze was filled with guilt and worry. "…I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

She spit in his face.

The creature froze, though didn't let go, a strange look of agitation and acceptance spreading across its visage. Oddly enough, it didn't go feral again, like Amy assumed it was, but it's attention did divert. As distracted as it was, Amy used that chance to unbuckle her necklace from her neck, forming her hand into a fist so each sharp claw protruded from between each knuckle.

The creature uttered a deep sigh, immediately noticing the small daggers curled in her hand, as it ran a hand down its face, ridding itself of any saliva. "…look, can you please calm down? I know you can understand me, Amy, so can you-"

Amy punched, lashing the claws and teeth across the beast's muzzle, but though it flinched, its expression didn't change. She readied to punch again, searching for a spot to give the most optimal damage, but it grabbed her hand, it's hand big enough to entirely encase hers.

Amy jerked, panic setting in when her struggles did nothing. The blades didn't puncture its front paw, they didn't help, and now…

Now there was no weapon.

Amy tugged, but it didn't let go of her hand. In fact, it released her leg so that she flipped right-side up, dangling by her imprisoned arm. Amy snarled at it, kicking against its chest, though it barely glanced down, uninjured and unbothered. "Let me go!" Amy growled, kicking it again and growing more frustrated when it didn't yield any results.

The beast grumbled at her attempts to defeat him, shifting to a sitting position. It's breath ruffled her bangs, and she recoiled best as she was able, growing more horrified as it gently placed her in its lap, it's legs pinning down her feet and stopping her from kicking out again.

"You're injured." The creature informed her, eyes softening in worry. It drew a hand through her bands, it's touch surprisingly soft and soothing, though Amy recoiled away the first time, she felt the trickle of blood down her forehead. "I'm sorry…" the beast crooned, "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Let go of me!" She thundered, delivering her best punch to the creature's nose. It jerked back, eyes flicking with something akin to anger, and Amy thought it would revert back to its supposed feral mode, but instead it immediately relaxed again and leaned over her.

Amy yanked at its grip on her, withering and snarling, noticed it's mouth open, struggled more vehemently. She twisted her captured hand, stabbing at its hand again, felt something puncture, but it didn't react.

Instead, it leaned over Amy, muzzle brushing over her scalp, tickling her ears. Amy huffed out a gasp of horror, feeling its tongue descend a second later. Amy flinched from its touch, expecting his teeth to tear into her forehead, tearing off skin, bone, and quills, but instead she was greeted by a sudden burst of relief, the tongue rolling over her wound. A quiet gasp forced its way from her jaws, against her will, she felt herself relax.

When she returned with the other warriors from battles… the village dogs would lap at their wounds. Would help those injured while the witch doctor was concerned with those more damaged. And right now…

The creature was doing the exact same thing, loving strokes running through her fangs and against her forehead, cleaning her, stopping the bleeding, helping her recover. It… was far too familiar, and Amy felt her struggles dissipate, despite how pent up she had been feeling. Amy blinked back tears of frustration, yanking on her arm again, feeling herself slowly give in, an overwhelming amount of… something, some distant feeling, filling her chest.

It was a long time before it finally pulled back and stopped grooming her, running its free hand over her bangs one last time, admiring its handiwork. "There you are, Amy." It comforted softly, looking over her one last time.

Amy gazed up at it, their eyes met, and she couldn't help but get a feeling of it's not fake. It was real, it's not faking it, it's… a person. It's not… manipulating my mind. It's… being genuine. Amy found herself looking at where she had thrust her spear into it, nibbling on her lip when she saw the blood clotted around the wound, able to see past layers of flesh to the broken, jagged tip of her spear ground tightly into its chest.

"You're injured, too..." Amy noted, reaching up a hand to carefully run along the wound, wincing when it flinched at her touch, growling deep in its throat, but managing to stay calm. Amy could see the effort in its eyes not to lose control, though, so she removed her hand.

It stared down at her, sympathy fluttering in its gaze. "I'm okay." It informed her, releasing her hand and taking a few steps back, lumbering back onto all fours. Its gaze flipped to her knuckles, and stared at the knives. Amy saw the trickling blood on its palm slow to a stop, and started to wonder why it did, but it turned away. It certainly walked on its hand like normal, paying no attention to its injury. Like Amy hadn't punctured anything like she thought, like that wasn't it's blood on its hand. An illusion? But that can't be right. It's real. It's real. Why is it…not hurt anymore? The injury on his shoulder remained, though.

The creature turned its back to her, and paced back to the cave, ears twisted around to face her, still cautious of her intentions despite how nullified both had grown to one another over the last five minutes.

Amy followed at a safe distance as far as the cave entrance, watching the beast climb down and away, disappearing into the shadows. Amy nibbled at her lip,but, remembering the screams - she wondered if a south tribe clansman had been eaten, and wondered how she felt about that - remained outside.

The creature stole from her tribe, and killed members of other tribes. Amy… Amy had to take it down. For real this time, and not because…

…she didn't know what stopped her warpath earlier.

It wasn't just the grooming that was melting her heart. It was… something else. Something she didn't understand, but was familiar nonetheless.

Amy… Amy didn't want to trust him, but he was so… gentle, and he reminded her of…

Of…

A simpler time.

A simpler life.

A snarl and clatter arose from the cave, and Amy's head snapped up, barely catching a glance as a grey and red substance flew past her head. Amy froze for a few painful seconds, eyes staring into the abyss. Nothing she saw stared back, so, very cautiously, she turned to find what had flown past her. Her blooded spearhead lay a few meters away.

Amy hurried to scoop it up, wondering how the creature got it out, and…

If its intentions with tossing it were malicious.

Amy tucked it into her boot, wrapping it in a leaf so it wouldn't stab her, and lay down at the cave entrance, just out of sight. She tightened her grip on her necklace, frowning at the tiny knives in between her knuckles. They would have to take the beast down tomorrow. She couldn't let herself give in to weakness. Couldn't let herself be led into a trap. She had to…

No, no, what she felt was nothing. Was nothing. She couldn't be foolish about it. She couldn't.

Amy lay there for hours, cuddled up outside the cave, listening to the rhythm of the jungle, and pretended to sleep, though her thoughts twisted and turned.

As she waited, the sun rose in the east.

The clansmen prepared for the days' hunt.

The east warrior grieved for his companions.

Shadows crept back into the rivets they came from.

The giant crawled back into place.

A chief looked towards the jungle and wondered.

The creature ceased to be.

(:)

I was stuck at one part of this, and described Sonic's pleading face as "dem big ol' eyes" and haven't stopped giggling since.

Help.

I can't breathe.