WHILE the Prince was below in her village hopefully sorting matters out, Belle let out a tired sigh and stood up and stretched, glancing up exhaustedly at the night sky. She paced a nervous line back and forth, glancing quietly around the forest clearing, keeping a rather nervous lookout to the left and right.
She wasn't sure she liked the fact that she could hear nothing but the sound of silence. Not the chirping of a cricket nor the twittering of a bird. It felt as though most animal life wanted to stay away from the Wolves' Woods.
Belle bitterly supposed she couldn't blame them if that were the case. She found herself hoping the Prince would return soon. She did not like waiting here alone. She was getting nervous.
Her brows furrowed as her nose twitched and she caught the scent of something faint, something…fruity. She did not know how she had come to have such a heightened sense of smell that almost resembled that of a hound.
Belle supposed that this was Agathe's magic, causing this.
Belle's pointed ears flicked once and she perked up at the scent that was coming to her stronger now, eliciting a low rumbling growl in her stomach that demanded she eats and eats now, hell be to what Prince Adam demanded she does. She needed to eat something or she'd faint and she'd be no good to him on the walk back to the castle then.
It was as the moon was rising high in the sky that a horrible sharp pain shot through her midsection, reminding her that she'd not eaten anything since yesterday.
With a sigh of impatience, Belle rose from her perch and began to search the forest clearing she'd been waiting in for something to eat. A bushel of berries, something, anything would do with how starved she was.
With each step as she wandered through the forest clearing, it grew harder and harder to ignore the painful pangs in her stomach. A flash of red passed by her face in a blur.
Belle squeaked at the sudden sight and halted in her tracks. Blinking her lids and brushing a lock of hair out of her way, she looked up to find a small red bird fluttering a few feet from her face, not afraid of her in this ghastly Beastly form. Belle smiled at that as she appreciated the small bird's vibrant bright red colors.
It was a cardinal, its colors popping against the woodland backdrop.
The bird swooshed about her view as it sang to her. Belle could not help but giggle at the sight of the surprisingly playful cardinal, glad the bird was not put off by her cursed Beastly form. She was grateful she did not lose her footing, which she did in fact, almost do, as the heel of her boot nearly snagged on a twisted overgrown tree root hidden underneath a fallen pile of fiery red and orange maple leaves. She looked at the bird eagerly.
"Well, are you just the most handsome little thing," she smiled, letting her amused eyes follow him as he fluttered down the path in front of her.
Belle's feet began to follow the little cardinal, delighted when her eyes caught sight of a bushel that looked to be covered in small red berries, and another bushel beside that one whose fruits were a rich dark purple hue, almost black. Too hungry to care, Belle darted forward and knelt hurriedly in front of the bush, trying to shoot a grateful look towards the little cardinal with just her eyes, only for the bird to chirp and fly away into the trees.
Without thinking, Belle popped one into her mouth. The juices of a rich blackberry flooded her mouth. She let out a tiny moan of satisfaction with how good it tasted. It tasted much sweeter than she thought it would.
With a tiny smile and laugh, Belle ate her fill until she could eat no more until she fact was slightly sick.
She began plucking more berries from the bush, taking a small handkerchief from her skirt's apron pocket and placing a handful of berries into the kerchief. She wanted to have something to offer the Prince when Prince Adam returned, as the man was bound to be grumpy and likely hungry as well.
When she had filled her kerchief to the brim and she knew it could hold no more, Belle plucked about eight more berries off the bush, popping them into her mouth and relishing the taste of the sweet juices.
Then she turned to head back in the direction she had come, wanting to be in precisely the same spot that she had stood in when the Prince had left. Belle felt herself beginning to panic when she turned around and could no longer see any indication of the edge of the woods. Every which way she turned her head to look, she could see only the outline of the trees, and pitch darkness in front of her.
Even the light of the moon looked to have abandoned her when she now needed it the most, and her growing anxiety and fear were not helped by the ominous sound of low rolling thunder in the distance.
Belle could feel herself beginning to panic, a feeling that, since Agathe had cast this spell upon her, was sadly becoming all too familiar to her as of late. She knew that she could not have gone very far into the woods, not far from the clearing the Prince had instructed her to wait in. But…how could she have gotten lost?
"Sir? Y-Your Highness?" Belle called in a shaking whisper as she glanced nervously around herself and clutched at herself as the temperatures were beginning to steadily drop, and she could feel the weeny spritzes of light raindrops beginning to mist and moisten her face. She squinted into the darkness, struggling to see, but could still see nothing she knew. "Sir!" she almost yelled in a panicked voice. She sighed in frustration and perched on a fallen log, resting her head in her furry hand and wincing at the feeling of the fur.
She tried to shake off the uneasy feeling that she was being watched. It was a frightening feeling, one that she was too embarrassed to share with the Prince when he returned for fear that he would mock her for it.
But now, as she gazed over the otherwise peaceful landscape, she saw nothing. Not a single body or animal was in sight, but Belle still felt a pair of eyes on her. It was past nightfall, she knew that anyone could be hiding out here, watching her, spying on her, perhaps waiting for the right moment to strike. Belle let out a whine that sounded almost wolfish and startled herself. She let out a shaky breath and shook her head to herself, frustrated.
"There's nothing," she whispered hoarsely, yet she was sure she felt someone watching her.
Belle tried to tell herself she was being utterly foolish. She was about to get up when she heard the sound of a snapping twig from underfoot that snatched her from her senses.
Alarmed, she whirled around, bolting to her feet and taking a step forward to see what it was.
The sound startled poor Belle so badly that she nearly fell over as she accidentally stepped on her dress and had to cling to a nearby tree to her left to catch her balance and right her gait.
Belle bolted, not even wanting to linger to see what had made the sound, running for the village, her promise to the Prince forgotten, when she felt a gloved hand at her elbow yank her backward.
Belle let out a yelp as the hand pulled her roughly backward and shoved her onto the ground.
Pain immediately shot through her limbs from the way she was roughly manhandled and immediately, she felt her wrist was already bruising, discomfort shooting up and down her arm. Belle looked up though she knew she did not want to see, and she found herself staring at the tip of death as it winked at her.
Gaston had notched an arrow and was pointing it at her. Her fear was so powerful that she could not even scream for the Prince to help. Her mouth opened, but all that came out was a low wolfish whimper.
The hunter and tavern owner stood there, tall, looming and muscular, powerful, dressed in black leathers, and clad for hunting, his prey: her. His very presence was commanding and frightening.
Gaston's handsome face was set in a viciously ugly frown that almost looked something like a feral snarl.
His narrowed pale gray eyes which were almost colorless in nature raked over her monstrous body, eyeing her horns with a look of utter disgust and hatred before Gaston managed to look back at her face.
Belle stumbled backward, but Gaston still kept the arrow notched directly at her heart. He approached her slowly and calmly. He never ran. He never rushed. She knew that about the hunter.
Even when the odds seemed against him, Gaston remained calm and unaffected. She felt tears come to her eyes as he heard the string of his bow stretching and knew within seconds he would release, and she would feel the inevitable of the arrow piercing her heart. She waited. Belle knew her chances of escaping were slim to none.
He would shoot her before she could even make it two feet. He raised the bow and Belle shielded her face with her arms.
"Gaston! Please!" Belle screamed though his hands suddenly gave a spasmodic jerk and he stopped the moment his name left her lips pleadingly. Belle squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the inevitable feeling of his arrow piercing her heart, but the moment never came. When she had recovered enough courage, she dared to peek open one eye and looked up at the village's most handsome boy, the best shot with a bow and arrow and a loaded gun, but he was now looking at her blankly, his grey eyes showing no emotion whatsoever.
It was impossible to tell what thoughts—if anything—were going on in his mind. But she thought they had the same look she knew in him well enough when Gaston was trying to make up his mind about something.
"Gaston?" she asked more softly, and to his amazement, he lowered the bow. Belle looked up at him, her lips parted in amazement as she ran her tongue along her sharp canines. She did not know how to go about this, not one bit.
As Belle watched him she felt a strange swell of happiness flood to life within her veins, surging through her.
He…he wasn't going to kill her! Maybe, just maybe, he had recognized her voice and was taking pity on her.
However, this was not the case. Her surge of triumph quickly faded when she watched a shadow of anger flit across the man's pale and sharp features, and the edges of his mouth curled up into a sneer. Belle's heart sank as Gaston spoke and when he did, the young man's voice was hollow and tinny, almost a low rasp as his temper threatened to implode. With Gaston, Belle knew that his growing quiet behaviors meant even more danger for her.
"You lie, wretch. You are not Belle, Belle is back at home with her father, the old coot. You might sound like her, have taken the form of her hair and her eyes, but I know what you are, she-wolf," he growled, ignoring how Belle's dark eyes narrowed in incense and despair at hearing his disparaging remarks against her father. "You are a cursed creature. You are nothing but a Changeling, a monster, a Beast. An evil, soulless creature deserving of nothing but death," he spat, the handsome boy's tone dripping with contempt as he looked at Belle with no pity in his eyes.
Belle watched in fear and dread as Gaston's cold gray eyes glinted in what she could only guess was a wave of horrible stress. Belle could tell that he did not believe it was her underneath her monstrous form.
She began to scramble backward on the cold ground, struggling to force herself up onto her feet.
Gaston as he approached tilted his head to the side curiously and Belle could barely make out the sight of the hunter's lips curving upward, as though he found her fear rather amusing.
"Please, Gaston, i-it's me, it's Belle, please listen to me," she begged, her voice trembling, darting her eyes to the left and right, looking for an escape route or a place to hide.
"No use running, she-wolf, it will do you no good. If you run, I will only chase you," Gaston mocked in a hoarse voice full of gravel. "What are you doing out in the Wolves' Woods alone, wretch? Are there more of your kind nearby? Do you have a Pack in these woods?" Gaston barked at her, questioning Belle with a cruel smirk as the handsome boy took a step towards Belle.
Belle let out a less-than-dignified whimper, gasping tired breaths and nervously looking up at Gaston with no small amount of fear in her dark eyes.
"A-a Pack?" she stammered, closing her eyes for a moment, feeling a surge of frustration well within herself.
She could not even think straight and she did not know how she could begin to talk herself out of this situation, as Gaston did not believe it was her. Judging by the look on his face, he believed her to be the devil.
Gaston scowled and shot her an incredulous look of disbelief.
"You're not out here alone, your disgusting kind don't travel alone," he growled, briefly tearing his gaze away from her and looking to his left and right, as though he expected more Beasts to emerge from behind the tree lines and the bushes. "Where is your Pack, she-wolf?" he snarled. "Tell me, and perhaps I won't kill you slowly. I will make it quick and painless. You will feel nothing, wretch."
"I—I don't….I don't know what you're talking about," Belle whispered, the dead look in Gaston's watery gray eyes sending a tremor of fear through her.
The way that Gaston stood there, his shoulders broad and strong, heaving slightly as he began to breathe heavily, his head tilted to one side, the look in his eyes blank and menacing, he was a frightening scene.
And as she saw the silver glint of his large hunting knife on his belt coupled with the large crossbow he held aimed at her heart, she knew she had to try to escape. If she didn't, she would be dead, anyways.
She took a deep shaky breath, glanced up towards the night sky and plead with God to send her the Prince or anyone else to save her, and then scrambled to her feet in a pitiful attempt to flee from him.
Belle bolted forward, turning on her heels in a twist of the skirts of her simple blue dress, throwing herself forward, but Gaston did the same, only a half second after she did.
As she struggled to reach for a rock in the hopes of swiping it across his jaw, she felt his fingertips glancing off the material of her shirt. Belle screamed in agony as she felt the heel of her foot caught on to something buried beneath the pile of leaves under her feet. She went down to her knees and then her stomach onto the cold ground.
Belle looked down and found horrifyingly what looked to be one of Gaston's traps that he had set and hidden intended for large prey lodged tightly and painfully around her foot. She felt tears come to her eyes and she yelped, reaching for the trap's enclosure with fumbling fingers, but Gaston was already looming over her.
Belle let out an animalistic hiss that she was sure no human girl could make and bared her fangs at him.
She would not consider herself a savage Beast by any means, but now, she felt a surge of adrenaline flood through her veins as she fought against a primal instinct to rip, to shred, to kill.
She'd heard of people—and animals, for that matter—being able to do truly amazing times in times of turmoil, and of the adrenaline that was meant to keep you moving forward when you otherwise thought yourself not capable of doing so. But Belle had never truly understood what that meant until the moment her life depended upon it most.
Reaching forward, she ripped at the contraption she now knew to be a bear trap, screams still leaving her mouth as the blades grated against her leg as she wrenched her foot free. Belle barely managed to push herself to her feet and began to try to limp away, tears in her eyes, breathing heavily, blood now trickling from the gaping holes in her foot, and desperately trying to find the Prince. Right now, like it or not, the arrogant Prince was her only hope.
She wondered if there was perhaps a cave or somewhere nearby in the thick of this dense forest, somewhere she could hide from Gaston, but as the fleeting thought crossed her mind, Belle knew it was stupid. Gaston would find her. He was a hunter. He had all the time in the world and her hiding from him would likely only make his job easier, if not perhaps slightly more annoying. But she did not want to be an annoyance. She wanted to live, to be a worthy adversary for the man, if it came to that, if no help would come to her now, then she would have to defend herself.
Thankfully, due to the adrenaline in her body, she could not feel the pain in her left foot, but she could feel the hot sticky warmth of the blood that was now oozing out of it and seeping through her boots.
Belle could never have imagined when she had asked the Prince to accompany him, that about to be killed by Gaston was how this night was going to end.
Before Belle could even make it ten feet, she felt herself being pushed roughly to the ground by Gaston.
Without thinking, she tried to brace her fall with both of her hands, only to feel a sharp shooting pain radiate up her wrist and arm as she collapsed against the dirt of the ground. She could not stop the sigh of pain that escaped as she realized that now in addition to her injured foot that she could barely walk on and would need to be treated soon if she did not want it to get infected or worse, lose it entirely, now her hand was injured.
Just great, she bemoaned. Belle let herself lay motionless, knowing that it was no good to try to get up as just the slightest twinge caused a jolt of pain to shoot up her leg. The numbness the adrenaline had caused in her injured foot was beginning to wear off and it wouldn't be long now before she'd feel it.
As she lay there on the ground breathing heavy and painful breaths and clutching her injured wrist against her chest, Gaston let out a cold bark-like laugh and knelt on the ground by her left side.
"Your Pack seems to have abandoned you, little she-wolf. It is because you're weak. Unfortunately for you, but it's lucky for me that I stumbled across you. I won't have vermin like you entering our village, killing our children, stealing our women."
Belle swallowed as Gaston inched closer, seeming to want to look at the fear in her eyes. As panicked as she was, she was too scared and far too injured and exhausted to even think about trying to put up a struggle.
His gloved hand moved to cover her mouth, but his hand closed over her nose as well, immediately cutting off any hope Belle might once have had of getting any oxygen to her lungs, which were beginning to burn.
Tears of pain and shame dripped down the edges of her eyes. Her injured and bleeding foot from his bear trap snagging on it suddenly hurt more than she could comprehend. Her brain began to turn foggy. This was it, she was sure to die, Gaston was sure to take his knife and stab her through the stomach or the heart, and take her Beastly head and mount it alongside the other animal heads he proudly displayed on the walls of his tavern, his prizes.
She only wished she could know if Papa was going to be alright on his own if Agathe had at least told him what had happened to her. If he could survive without her.
She wondered if she should have disobeyed the Prince and tried to find her father before accidentally wandering off in search of food, but what good could she have done? Now, Gaston had found her and did not believe her when she said it was her, and she was sure to die, though not before being horrifically tortured.
The wait for the Prince to return was nearly interminable, and though she was sure she was the last person he wanted to see, she now found herself hoping that he would come.
The last thing she felt before her entire world went blank was a wave of unending shame, and she could hear Gaston's voice, clear as day, speaking to her as he knelt to whisper his words threateningly into her furry ear that gave a little twitch. The man's words made Belle shudder and stuffed the chills down her throat, even on the brink of unconsciousness as black spots began to creep into the edges of her line of sight and began to blind her.
"You wait, little wolf, and see what I'll do to you," Gaston threatened. "You're quiet now, witch, but it's not going to last long. I'll break you, Beast. We'll see how talkative you are then. I'll get you to talk before I end your miserable wretched life. I will put you out of your misery and end your suffering, yes, but first, you tell me where the rest of your wretched Pack lives in these accursed haunted woods. It's up to you just how much you want to suffer first."