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A shadow between the trees.

The glowing eyes of a beast.

A deep, guttural growl.

That’s what makes you run.

You’ve heard the tale enough times to know you’ll meet your end if you stay. You take off sprinting through the woods, leaves crunching and twigs snapping beneath your feet. The only thing louder is the sound of your breath as it escapes you, both from fear and how hard you’re running. You never should’ve come to the woods.

The legend is simple, yet filled with mystery. It’s one of those that leaves things to run rampant in your imagination, rather than spelling it all out. It doesn’t have a name, the creature. The locals call him “The Beast”. No one has ever seen him clearly, he’s nothing but shadows and flashes of light. That growl, though, it’s one you’ll never forget. A sound you’ll hear in your nightmares forever.

There’s no confirmed deaths that you know of, but the tale goes that if you let that growling creep up on you, you’ll be pinned to the ground. The creature will still only appear as a shadow, with bright, piercing eyes, but beneath its skull mask it will drain your very soul from your body, and you’ll be left as one of the waking dead. Your body will join the beast in the woods, becoming just another dead thing that walks among the trees.

They say he crawled up from a grave in the ground one day, covered in dirt and leaves as he clawed his way out of his grave. A spirit filled with unrest that woke from a slumber that should’ve been permanent. Hatred fuels his soul, and hunger fills his heart. His only purpose is to consume, lest anyone be unlucky enough to land in his grasp.

***

My name is Temminick.

I’m not what they say I am.

I can’t tell them that, though. They all run too quickly, either frightened by my appearance or the tales that have been passed down through the generations. Even if they did stay long enough for me to explain, I couldn’t. I’ve been cursed since birth with a tongue that won’t make words, no matter how hard I try. The best I can do is a low, guttural growl. If I use that, dragons run even faster.

Everyone thinks I’m a monster – I’ve heard the stories. All the tales about my horrible, soul-sucking ways. How I’ll rip dragons apart when they trespass in my woods. How my growl is the sound of a demon within a dragon’s body, ready to claim the lives of anyone who dares to pass the treeline. How I stalk my prey, a shadow passing between trees with all the stealth of a spider, sneaking up when people least expect it.

All of these things can be explained. I’m a shadow, because I’m afraid. Afraid that someone will become violent at the sight of me due to the fear that’s been instilled into all of the locals. I hide behind the trees, hoping that no one will be able to harm me. My growl, my only audible way of communication. I don’t do it on purpose – I find myself attempting to speak, not realizing until it’s too late that my growl has sent someone running. In my mind, all I’ve said is “Hello, friend, please be careful, the plants are dangerous here.” when they’ve heard a monster letting out a warning that it’s about to strike.

Ripping dragons apart, that came about from a shade-filled wolf who shredded a foolish ridgeback’s wings. The dragon never saw the wolf, and with the legends already existing around me, it was easy to cast the blame on my shoulders. Soul stealing… a young dragon was bitten by a viper, and in my haste to help I tackled the youngling and sucked out the poison. He ran afterwards, and wasn’t acting like himself (due to the venom), and people turned it into me stealing the soul of a child.

There’s no way for me to beat this legend, the extent of the stories surrounding me. I’ll never be able to live among other dragons. It all started when I was just a hatchling – I was born different. I didn’t look like the other hatchlings, and some dragons recoiled at how hideous they thought me to be. My parents didn’t defend me, and once I was old enough to survive on my own I fled to the woods, others chasing me from the town. But no one ever remembers that part of the story. Ever since then, the woods have been my home, and they’re nice enough. They can be cruel and unforgiving, sure, but they don’t care what you look like. I’ve never felt the sting of being a social outcast in the woods.

I’ve leaned on instincts to get myself through, and become incredibly resourceful. I’ve fashioned myself an outfit from things I found along the forest floor. A skull here, some feathers there, and eventually I was covered from the elements and slept much better at night.

The real danger of these woods are the shade-filled familiars that roam about. I’ve fought more than my fair share of them, but peaceful city dragons have no idea what it’s like out in the forest. They’re not prepared for what they might find among the leaves. I try to warn them, and I guess in some ways I do a good job of it, since they always go running. All I’ve ever done is try to protect dragons, even if they were cruel to me.

It was that drive to protect that led me to meet the first dragon in Sorneith that was ever kind to me. I’d been tracking a shade-filled chimera through the forest, it had been stalking innocent animals and leaving a trail of bodies in its wake. I tried to save many of them, but it had been too quick for me, an efficient hunter with far too much power for my frail body to stop.

This pure white dragon – scales so perfect it looked like she’d been sculpted out of porcelain, came trotting through the woods one afternoon. I knew the chimera was nearby, I’d followed it to the trail and then lost it in the shadows. The dragon made her way farther and farther into the woods, crunching leaves and snapping twigs beneath her claws. I heard another set of feet crunching in the distance, and I knew this dragon was as good as lunch if I didn’t do something to stop this.

Without intention, my growl rose in my throat as I attempted to call out to her. She stopped suddenly, looking around to find where the noise was coming from. The growl ceased as I stopped attempting to alert her, and she began to move forward on the trail again, albeit more cautiously. Her eyes darted around the trail, and I knew I had to do more – the distant crunching was getting louder.

Taking a deep breath, I readied myself for something I hated doing. I leapt from the bushes, directly in front of the dragon. She stopped in her tracks and screeched at the sight of me, and turned to run back from where she came. I sighed a little of relief, and a little because the fact that dragons’ reaction to me was to shriek and run still hurt, deep down. I couldn’t wallow for long, because there was another shriek just a bit down the path, followed by a growl much more ominous than mine.

The chimera. I hadn’t been quick enough. Sprinting towards the dragon, I barreled into the chimera, which had the dragon pinned beneath its claws. Of course, me being a fae meant that this wasn’t very effective. It was more annoyed than anything, roaring and swiping its claws at me. Dodging, I can do. I jabbed at the chimera again, until I’d made it angry enough that it made chase. Then, I led it away from the other dragon, dodging and weaving between trees with the chimera at my tail. I thought it might catch me a couple times, but I managed to outmaneuver it by twisting around trees too close together for the chimera to fit through.

I must’ve run the chimera a mile away when I decided it was time for me to lose it. I expertly turned and dove into a burrow the chimera couldn’t reach. It yowled, swiping its claws at the entrance of the burrow, fury and frustration so present that you could hear it. After a while, it grew tired of attempting to dig me out (it hadn’t gotten very far, I truly appreciated whatever creature dug this very good burrow), and finally I heard the crunching of leaves as the chimera left.

I waited a few more minutes, then cautiously stuck my head out. I’d had enough chasing it – it chasing me – for the day, so I started towards the edge of the woods where I liked to perch myself. I made it back to the path, and to my surprise, the white dragon was sitting in the middle of it. She’d seen me, but she wasn’t reacting with fear, suddenly. I stopped, and we both stared at each other for a few minutes, and then she finally spoke.

“You were trying to warn me, weren’t you?”

I nodded, a relief washing over me that I’d never felt before in my life.

She stood, bowing her head before looking back up at me, “Thank you. I owe you my life.”

And then she was gone just as quickly as she’d come, and I was alone with a feeling of joy I’d never experienced.

Someone understood.