Not all of the Beast's dialogue is perfect English. He uses a few made-up words that have easily guessed meanings, because he has a different way of looking at matters. Many thanks to dr.evil99 and the wonder that is TiVo for the details that added to the last scene of this chapter. I do not own Millard Fillmore, who could be the least known American president of the country's history.
Chapter Two: Damsel, Distressed
Raven didn't know exactly why it worked. She had been in the castle for five days, and she was already more comfortable with Beast than she was with most people in the town. She liked her friends, but- this was different. In the middle of nowhere, she didn't have to fuss about propriety or rumors or the potential to cause a scandal. In Beast's castle, she could do things like lie about in the orchard and stare at clouds for no good reason. Most times he joined her, but he left to hunt. He had not brought his meals back to the castle since the partridge, no matter how many times she told him he could. Raven wasn't even exactly sure how it worked, but their system of communication could convey basic ideas.
Instead, she waited for him to come back from hunts, book in hand. She munched a pear as she waited. It was a few days from really ripening, but that didn't bother her. A change from apples was much appreciated, even if neither fruit particularly complimented her tea. The well behind the castle was uncontaminated, at least, and a little plain water was a nice change. Raven watched a partridge above her. She never had seen a partridge actually roosting in a pear tree- maybe the old Christmas carol made a little sense, then. She watched the partridge fly away suddenly, fleeing from danger. Raven smiled. Beast was back.
He lumbered into the orchard, moving carefully between the fragile trees. He found her, as he always did. Raven had a very limited empathic sense, but she could always tell when Beast was near. He was a confusing blend of emotions that she couldn't understand, primal stages of nature that she couldn't translate into modern words. She looked up when he stopped next to her. He always was careful, and never stood too close. He offered a hand, a new courtesy- she wrapped both hands partially around his wrist, and he pulled her up.
"Thanks," she said, trying to guess how one would be formal in such a situation. His wrist was bulkier than her waist, and she was struck again by how very large he was. Raven looked with fascination when he gave her a slight smile. Okay, Mister Beast has some very lovely incisors there- he's not a vegetarian. Raven refused to be ruffled. "Now, those are some sharp teeth- with the size of that lower left canine, I'm surprised you don't bite your lip every time you close your mouth."
He watched her. Most of her words were just sounds, but he knew bite. She said it with other words, so she didn't mean the usual response of teeth fixing into something like food. She smiled and made a few more word-sounds, finally gesturing for him to go inside. He followed. They used the side door in what was once a conservatory. Only the removed windows of that room and the front doors were wide enough for him to move without tricky maneuvering.
She pointed at a couch and made word-sounds, and then walked over to the fire. She repeated this twice before he began to understand. The fire was cooling, and needed more to burn. She wanted the couch to burn. He nodded. She smiled and clapped her hands, very-happy that he was going to demolish the furniture. He watched her for a second before he dealt the couch a quick blow. The thing shattered into fragments. He tried to not be too strong around her, to make sure that she wasn't frightened. He still didn't smell fear, so she wasn't scared. Instead, she looked at the fragments and said something about 'strong,' which was a good thing.
He sat on the floor, after feeding the fire. Raven used her black-magic, as she named it with words stuck together, to move pieces into the fire. She watched it burn, still very-happy. He didn't have to worry that she would use predator-tricks on him, just as she did not fear that she was prey. They could live together, like he sometimes ran with the wolves- if there was any caution, it was forgotten for the hunt-call that reached all predators. The moon did not make the hunt instinct stronger. It only made forest-paths easy to run without any fear, when the night-light touched the bottom of the murking trails. He remembered those nights, looking at the fire. He remembered who had made that fire, sometimes, and almost thought that he should smother the flames in dirt and dust. But- if he did, then he would lose all memories of those times. She had left, but before then she had been a friend.
She made concerned word-sounds, fretting as a mother would over cubs- or as a mate would, but she showed no signs of courtship. She made word-sounds carefully, but he didn't know what her sounds meant. Wrong- that was a bad word, but she didn't look mad. Instead, she looked worried, like a fussing mate. He couldn't remember when someone had made a worried face, and frowned his confusion.
Raven used her magic to lift her two foot-paws from the floor, so she could see his eyes. Humans believed that looking in the eyes showed many feelings, more than just hunger or anger or curiosity or sleepiness. She made only a few word-sounds before reaching out a hand. He watched her hand, just like he usually did. She was the size of most humans, but he was not. He was not one of her kind, but she acted like he could be- if he wanted. Watching her, he almost wanted to be, but the anger held him back. He could almost remember a time when he wasn't angry, but that was long ago. He growled softly, a threatening rumbling.
She pulled back, but stayed above the ground. She made a few sharper word-sounds, waiting for the anger to settle back to a dull seething. He knew what one of her gentle words meant, when it followed a murmur. It was two scratch-pictures together- okay. She said it until he could believe her. When the growling stopped, he decided that he could be angry later, when he hunted. She didn't like it when he was that angry, but she only waited for him to stop. She moved forward again, and he realized that he had stood to snarl at her. He sat again, and she touched his arm-back. The word-meaning escaped him, but that didn't matter. When he didn't push her away, she ran her hand down the stripe that went from his ear down his back.
He leaned against her touch. He remembered that people believed in touching, but predators did not. He almost pulled away, but she would be sad. He felt a few muscles slowly relax with her coaxing. She stopped after a few minutes and just wrapped her arms around him. He remembered what to do from times when he was not strong- back when he had been something weaker than a beast. Using no muscle-strong grip, he carefully supported her with an arm.
They stayed there for a long time, until the hunt-call filled him. She leaned into his neck-fur and made a few soft word-sounds with his name at the end. Beast. It was a name that meant what he was, and that was all he needed. He was more beast than green. He put her back on the ground carefully, and she smiled and took an apple from her basket. She kept the basket over the mantle, for the times when it was too dark to venture out to the orchard. He already thought of that as partially her territory. He did not use that land, and the few birds in that area were too hard to catch.
The small rooms were hers, and he could not reach them at all to think otherwise. They smelled completely of her, but he only scented the wind far from her window. Raven would not like to hear a hunter sniff about her room, but he could smell her far into the forest when the air ran in the right direction. He left for the hunt, just as he did every night. He hunted at night and flushed sleep-slow deer from their thickets. Tonight, he couldn't hear only the hunt-call as he followed trails of a slow young buck. He heard Raven murmur words in his ear, and could still feel a ghost of a touch by his ear. Beast knew that his patterns had changed, but that wasn't bad. Hunters would often decide on different hunts, when a new female moved into the area- potential mates weren't counted in patrolling boundaries.
It was two suns later that she followed him. Even when he growled, she only shook her head and made her mouth a line. No. She would not leave him to prowl about alone. After more time with Raven, he knew more of her words. No was a strong word that she said only when irritated, like she had a burr stuck in her hair, or angry, like when he had ruined a book. She had began to smell of salt-crying before she became angry, but she hadn't yelled for more than ten heart-pounds. Instead, she asked him to not claw the books- she could tell that he had tried to open it, like she did, to hear all the words that came out.
He tried a final time at the border of the woodland. It was a full-moon night, and he was going to hunt. She didn't make any of her words. Instead, she took to the air, hovering above the ground. She knew that words were not a part of the hunt- and he guessed that she wanted to be a part of the pack-song. He howled. Before, he had worried that he might drive her away with such noise. Now, he knew that she was not afraid. She never smelled of fear, even when she used a cloth-box-shape to wipe blood from his claws with a false-mad lecture. She closed her eyes when he howled, just as she did after reading a very-good passage in a book.
When the wolves answered, as they did on hunt-moons, her eyes grew larger until he could see the dark in the middle of all the white. He knew that she was in colors, but he couldn't tell what they were. He saw her as blues and grays. He only saw reds when the anger took full hold of him, when he could not remember anything that was like the word-sounds or the expressions that humans made.
He answered the wolves, beginning to move through the trees. Raven followed, flying. She stayed just behind him, out of the way of the hunt. He sang about her in the howls, when not warning prey of the danger that he would make. She didn't know what the howls meant, but it was a trade. Her word-sounds were hard for him to make, and she wouldn't understand a hunt-song. She didn't know what the songs meant, but she listened as she flew behind him. He ran faster, loping along fast enough to catch any deer he spotted. She sped up with him, until the cloak over her gray dress flew back in the wind. She was smiling when he glanced over his shoulder.
He found a trail and sang out a hunt-call. Raven tried her own version, imitating the way he changed his voice. It was a good start, like a pup finding how to make the hunt-song. He howled again, letting the notes move a little slower. It wasn't music- it was how he lived. When he found his quarry, there was no warning, no death-song. He pounced and bit quickly. With a shake of his head, the buck fell limp.
She watched, breathing hard. He had never eaten when she could see. He could remember that ladies didn't like blood. "Eat," she said firmly. He watched her for another moment, recognizing her no-fight not-mad stare. She wasn't going to leave. He used sharp claws to slice away a full leg before eating it whole. She didn't flinch away. She watched even when the blood dripped from his claws while he ate the entire animal, stripping flesh from the bones with his claws. He left only a dissembled skeleton. Finished eating, he watched her.
She launched herself from the ground, kicking with her legs. She had strong legs, and flew without wings. He knew that she was human, by her smell, but she was something more- maybe she was a no-winged human-girl-bird. She was growing tired, he could see. She was not used to a full night-hunt, when the wind sang a hunt-song. He shook his head at her. That meant No, a strong word. She knew he wasn't angry, because his hair was flat and his teeth weren't bared.
"No?" she asked.
Beast pointed to his back. She was too tired to keep flying, and there wasn't a reason for her to need to sleep all day. She already wide-breathed her tiredness, showing flat teeth with only four made to tear. When she frowned, he pointed again. She approached slowly, trying to work out what he was action-talking. He finally reached out carefully, leaving her time to back away. She only flew-stayed in the air and let his hand reach cautiously around her waist. She stopped when he held her, and he felt her small weight resting in his hand. She watched him, but not from fear.
He very gently placed her on his back, reaching behind him. She understood. She gripped into his fur, giving him a questioning look. He gave a very light shrug. She wouldn't hurt him. He made sure that she was secure before he began moving. At first, she tensed to stay in place. He walked slowly, letting her adjust to how his muscles moved beneath her. Finally, she relaxed and rested her head against his ruff. She couldn't see well, even in the moon's light, and all there was to see were the trees.
He sang a final hunt-song, the last before daylight. He could feel her smile in his neck-fur before she drifted into sleep. He walked back to the castle-home slowly, making sure that she wouldn't slip. He set her in the orchard, back at the castle. He didn't want to try bringing her through doors on his back, and she hadn't cringed away from his feast. He would bring her a meat-gift. That was what males did for- ladies, if he remembered the term. Raven was a lady, even if he wasn't a man- maybe it didn't matter.
Raven stretched before waking, an old habit. Her hand hit a tree. That oddity alone was enough to make her forego a few minutes of sleepy mutterings to sit up and look around. She was- in the orchard, not in her bed, because- Raven remembered. The hunt had been incredible, and the blood was natural. There was nothing disturbing about nature at its most beautiful. Predator and prey, life and death- they went together. Her last memory was resting in the surprisingly soft fur around his neck, thick hair that pulsed with his warmth. She looked around, but saw no signs of her Beast.
She tried reading the sun's position in the sky, but gave up on that effort. It was close to noon- but she didn't know how close, or whether it was before or after. That meant that she had overdone it a little, with the flying. Raven looked around, once she had more or less managed a standing position. She doubted that the gray dress would ever be worn in public- the old lady down the road would be brandishing some yellow monstrosity before Raven could protest. She would definitely change dresses before venturing home- until then, a few mud splatters wouldn't hurt anyone.
Raven heard a few yells. Great. She recognized that voice. No one else in the village had that much arrogance- even Robin at his worst couldn't compete. Without further thought, she began walking into the forest. Drawing near the confrontation, she drew up her chin and put a hint of a flounce into her walk. Impressions meant everything, when dealing with idiots. Adonis made his boulder-headed friends look sharp.
Her entrance into the clearing had the desired effect. She was regrettably dressed in a partially soiled dress, but that didn't matter. She gave the scene a regal once-over, a trick of looking distant that she had taken a few days to master. Adonis was pinned beneath a very large familiar green figure, and Raven reminded herself that she had to interrupt, if only to give Adonis an insult to his attempts at dignity.
"Beast, he's not worth it," she said, stepping closer. Raven couldn't step between Beast and the challenger, not that she wanted to. Adonis could stew for another minute, and Beast was already relaxing a little. She put a hand at his elbow, used to how large he was. "Let him up, please."
He did. Raven smiled a quick thanks before turning her attention to Adonis. "I don't know what you thought you could prove, but you won't be tangling with him again. Next time, I won't be around to save you. As I'm sure you've noticed, he's stronger than you are. If you go back to the village before I can list out the reasons I should let him after you, we can forget that this happened. If I see you around here again, or if you try for a rematch with Beast, I'll hurt you myself."
Adonis sneered, the only response to such a credible threat. "The village will know that you're keeping company with a beast out in the woods, demon."
Raven allowed him the bluster, but would definitely spread a few rumors of her own. She was always nice to the little old ladies of the village. After all, they spread the whispers that could ruin a reputation. "Half-demon," she corrected. "Go home, Adonis." She doubted that Beast would attack again, but Adonis didn't know that- and Beast was making his best false snarls. When he truly was angry, he wouldn't sound like he was laughing.
Raven waited until Adonis had sauntered casually away, and then until the running footsteps faded from hearing. Then, she allowed herself a few giggles. "I think he won't try that again- at least, I hope he won't." Raven frowned. He was acting a little off. "Beast?" she asked. He looked away, which only deepened her frown to a scowl. "No, you are not- did you get hurt in the fight?" He ignored her. "Hurt?" When he started to move away, Raven decided that it was enough. They understood each other better than that.
"Excuse me, Beast, but I think he did hurt you. I happen to be a healer." She walked around in front of him, ready to try holding him back with a single hand- if he plowed her over, he probably wouldn't step on her. When he winced, she glanced at her hand to find blood. "Okay, blood is never a good sign. You are not moving- is that clear?" She looked up with her sternest look and waited. He nodded, once, then slowly took a seat on the ground.
Raven used a few impatient hand motions to clear away tangles of hair before drawing in a hiss of air. "Okay, this isn't an arrow wound. I didn't know that he had a knife- unless he doesn't anymore." She looked around and found a glint of metal high up in a tree. "There really was no need to give squirrels a weapon- and you wrestled that away from him, didn't you?" She waited for a nod. "Next time, try smacking him over the head before taking the weapon. Hand, please."
He knew that she was impossible in one of her moods. He showed her the palm of his hand. She looked at it and made a not-happy sound, but she wouldn't let him pull back his hand. Instead, she held her hand flat over the hurt until there was white bright-glow. He watched as the cut healed, leaving no trace of a scar.
Raven grinned. He was giving her a new sort of look- it appeared that the girl in gray still was interesting. "I can heal you. That's more useful than throwing things about with my mind- well, I'm not exactly sure how all that works, to be honest. I know all the fancy terms, but no one can give me a definition that I can hope to explain. Keep still for a minute, please." The wound over his ribcage was deeper, but she could heal him. She used both hands, spreading fingers wide until she gathered a pool of the white light that concentrated on the worst damage.
He caught her, when she fell. Raven still wasn't used to how far she could push her powers, but she was learning. She put up a cursory struggle, but she really didn't mind being carried around- not that she'd admit it. Even with a few just-for-pride kicks moving her around, his claws never touched her. By the time they reached the castle, she was ready to walk upright without falling over, and even negotiated the hallways without tripping.
Raven observed the dwindling fire. The despised fainting couch was only a few smoldering fragments, and Beast had already broken the lid off of an old chest. Raven glanced inside, to see if anything interesting was inside. Her father's old boxes often contained trapped genies and such, but the contents of this were plainer. All that was inside the chest was a book bound in white leather with dark decorative insets. She opened the book, skimming through the basic plot. Something about a dragon and a knight- she had more than enough material for a story just by living with Beast. This looked more like something Robin would like- and he preferred real fights to fictional accounts.
"I wish there was some sort of knight who wasn't a complete bore," she grumbled.
"There is."
Raven nearly dropped the volume. "Books are not supposed to talk."
"True, fair maiden- but I am no book. I am a man."
Raven gagged. Okay- the book was talking in language that was enough to make her sick. What did her father always say? Never trust enchanted objects, even if you cursed them in the first place. She watched the book flip it open to an image of his eyes as the "true knight" droned on about his tragic, angst-ridden life story. She didn't quite catch his name- Mallard? Malker? Millard Fillmore- no, definitely not that. She gave the book a final skeptical glance. As interesting as it was, she had seen too many creations of her father's.
She tossed the book on the fire and turned to Beast. "You know, Beast," she said conversationally while the book began to burn, "you have some weird books around here. I think I'll stick with the classics." She smiled when he tapped a book carefully. "That one should be fine- I'll take Norse mythology any day."