An Errant Beast

1.

Beast, he never thought of himself as Adam anymore, heard the door to the castle open. The scent of a stranger played along the breeze it caused. It was storming outside as it wanted to do. Year after year of snow with now spring in sight. He realized it wasn't solely him who had been caught in the curse once he had calmed down enough from his transformation. The stranger, an older man by the sound of his voice, was lost. Scent told him was covered in dried sweat that stunk of fear.

He bound from his private quarters, ready to toss the trespasser in the dungeon. Instead, he froze at the top of the stairs. The staff were helping the old man who had made no request aside from shelter from the storm. They started a fire, provided a small meal, and treated the man as a guest truly should.

The rage from the trespass faded as he watched them work. Their human forms were gone as well, items and pieces of furniture rather than creatures. They were good people. He loomed in the shadows at the top of the stair as they guided the man to a small side-room. One that he had never paid attention to the rare times he left his private quarters.

He felt the fury fade as the door closed. It was rekindled when he saw one of his servants check to make sure the coast was clear. They feared what he would do and rightfully so. A moment later he would have flown into another rage. Instead, an honest fire sparked inside of his chest.

Beast rushed back to his room. The rose floated on the table as always. A slowly swirling red mist hung in the air above the petals. Carefully, reverently, he approached the flower and removed the glass case.

"Can you hear me?" Beast growled at the flower. "Surely, you must. If magic can do all of this, you can listen."

The mist took the shape of the witch's face. It took everything in him not to rip the flower to shreds in that moment.

"You called, dear prince?" The witch asked.

"I wish to parlay," Beast replied still forcing the anger under control.

"Denied," the witch said.

Her face began to lose shape in the mist.

"Not for me," Beast snapped. "For my staff."

The dispersing mist paused for a moment before taking shape once more.

"I will listen," the witch said.

"They do not deserve to suffer for my mistake," Beast kept each word measured. "I do not ask for your forgiveness, you have set your terms. I merely request that these innocent people are released from the curse. It is no fault of their own who I am."

The mist drifted higher, spreading to take the shape of a human. A moment later the witch stood before him. She appeared in the form of an attractive older woman, younger than Mrs. Potts, but not a girl.

"Interesting," the witch raised a perfect eyebrow. "And what are your terms?"

"Terms?" Beast questioned. "Free them, keep me as I am until I break the curse. Those are my terms."

"Hm," the witch drummed her fingers against the table.

Beast watched as her sharp nails clicked against the stone. Each little tap kicked up a small puff of dust, leaving behind a cluster of groves.

"Not good enough," the witch replied.

"What would be good enough?" Beast said with a barely contained growl.

"I will remove the curse on them and this land, for a price," the witch said purposely drawing out the silence after her statement.

"Name it," Beast didn't hold back the growl this time.

"You must leave and never return," the witch stated simply. "They will be free of the curse and you." She paused. "You will carry the curse until the end of your days. Never to return to human form, nor to set foot in this castle again."

Beast stared at her for a long moment. This was more than his home; it was the castle where generations of his family had lived and died. It would destroy the last vestiges he had from his old life. There would be no more Prince Adam, there would only be Beast.

Wasn't that the future he was facing already? What were the chances of him finding true love? The odds of see another person if he stayed here were laughable. He had no idea how many years had passed under the curse while this poor lost soul was the first visitor.

Beast took in his form. He stood seven-feet tall and looked more akin to a bipedal lion than a man. Yet, that wasn't completely accurate. There were some human elements in his face. He had horns, hands, even if his fingers ended in claws, and lacked a mane. His hair was long, he had a beard, but it was just hair.

"Agreed," Beast nodded. "I require proof before I leave."

"Agreed," the witch said.

Her body transformed into the red mist once the word left her mouth. It spread quickly, filling his room a moment later, then drifting through the doorway and out of the window. He could feel a change in the air. The storm stopped abruptly, clouds scattered, and the stars shined brightly above. Even without lanterns or candles the room was brighter from the light outside. Snow began to melt, leaving behind verdant vegetation rather than swathes of mud.

A great clattering erupted from all corners of the castle. Beast rushed into the hallway to see a random assortment of furniture, dishes, and other items that had once been his servants scattered along the floor. The poo souls that had been trapped in such forms now stood nearby. They stared at their returned bodies in awe.

Tears, cheers, and laughter filled the castle. The pure emotion made his heart swell. Beast slipped silently back into his room. He scanned the space to take one last look at the few things that held meaning. The portraits of his family, his grandfather's sword, a tapestry following their bloodline back generations, and finally the rose. Rather, where the rose had been. It had disappeared once the witch had arrived. The price was paid. His potential salvation for their freedom.

He would not stay any longer. Lingering would tempt him too much.

Beast burst through the room. He leaped out of the window, landing deftly on his hands and feet, then took off at a sprint. The grounds had been restored as well. Worn stone walls repaired themselves as he approached. He didn't stop to watch, barely breaking stride as he vaulted the wall. Much to his surprise, the mist was still moving. In fact, it appeared to be spreading toward one of the nearby villages.

Had the curse truly reached so far? How many more had been dragged into it? Did the witch not know? Or did she simply not care? It didn't matter now. They would now live free of the curse.

Beast stopped once he reached the main road. The unkept and overgrown state began to recede as the first wisps of mist reached it. It would not be wise to travel on the road. He did not want to be seen. He turned his gaze from one direction to the next. There was plenty of coverage to run parallel to the road in the forest. He should have grabbed a cloak before he left. It wouldn't be the perfect disguise, but it may have allowed him a moment to act before another traveler could spot him.

~

Time in the forest lost meaning. He ran through the night, hunting as he went, and changed course if there was a chance to encounter people. His pace was a steady jog that ate away at the distance.

Beast had no guiding direction or goal in mind. He simply stayed in motion, never spending more than a couple of nights in one spot. Rarely, he would get close enough to a camp to hear the conversation. It was after the third full moon out in the wild that he learned something interesting. He could slip into a camp when the fire was low, and the people were too tired to pay attention. As it turned out, most animals didn't mind his presence unless he was actively chasing them. Horses reacted to him the same way they did to any other person they didn't know. When the whim struck him, he would slip in among the travelers and enjoy the sound of people. He didn't realize how much he needed the sound of others. The constant chatter from the servants had become normal to him and he missed their voices.

He couldn't get close to the fire, or share a meal, but he could linger in the shadows. A discarded tent that had been patched too many times became his cloak. It didn't keep the wind or rain out, but it kept him from being spotted. His size would make people write him off if they spotted him.

Beast slinked close to the cluster of travelers camped along the road. They had torches along the line and a couple of people on watch, though it was a token effort. He had been able to get into the camp properly without issue. His goal was simple, the food wagon. He had been dreaming of bread for the last week.

"Damned thorns," one of the travelers said.

Beast stilled, keeping low, and sticking to the shadows.

"Still finding them?" Another replied with a laugh. "I told you not to get too close."

"Yeah, yeah," the first grunted. "Cursed kingdom and all that nonsense. No one believes that story. It's just more ruins with bushes all over the place. Bushes with thorns."

"My grandmother told me stories," the second voice sounded annoyed now. "She was a little girl when those thorns appeared. Their village sent men to investigate when the traders didn't show up. Then they sent more when those ones didn't come back."

"Sure," the first muttered.

"They were asleep, all of them, even the horses," the second continued. "They cut a way into the thorns and fell asleep on the other side. The men brought back didn't wake up no matter what. Just went to sleep and died. The second group said they saw more people sleeping farther on. They looked like they were in the middle of the day, going about their lives. Frozen, sleeping."

"But not dead?" The first snorted.

"Not the ones in the thorns," the second said with a touch of fear in his voice. "That's what they figured out. Inside the thorns, you go to sleep and stay that way. Take someone out of there they'll sleep until they die."

"Is this the same grandmother that told you about a monster that lives in a castle?" The first laughed.

"It was a cursed prince," the second snapped. "You can ask Old Matt; he and I were on that trade route last year. An entire castle of people swearing their prince had turned into a beast and that they had been furniture."

"Sounds like crazy people," the first replied.

"Everyone forgot about the castle and the town," the second continued without acknowledging the other. "One day out of the blue, people remembered. There hadn't been any trade caravans that way in over eighty years."

Beast listened for a few more minutes. Conversation flowed away from tales of curses to what they were going to do once they got home. He slipped away as they started to talk about women. If there was one thing he missed about being human, it was women. He had a few encounters with ladies before the curse, some of them had been there that night. A masquerade to search for a potential wife. Then that witch had appeared at the door. Ragged, ugly, and soaking wet even though the night was dry. Did he offer her shelter? Of course not, the safety of his guests and servants outweighed dated traditions. There were lords and ladies, minor as they may be, in attendance.

He had thought of that night many times across sleepless nights and lost days. His mind had played through various scenarios. What would have happened if he let the witch in? Why was she there in the first place? Would she have rewarded him for keeping the tradition alive? Would she have cursed him, or his guests, for some other slight?

When he thought about it, he would do the same thing again. If she was willing to curse a prince for something so simple, what would she have done to the others? The witch had changed before his eyes once he turned her away. Her wet, muddy clothes were replaced with a dry, quality dress. The wrinkles on her face vanished and color returned to her previously milky eye. Her appearance was part of the reason he had turned her away, but not the sole one. An unknown woman appeared on his doorstep in the middle of the night, managing somehow to get through the gates, pass multiple guards as well as dogs, and was soaking wet on a clear night. And that night he just happened to be hosting other royalty.

If that story was true, perhaps there was the thorns were as well. He didn't remember any nearby kingdoms that were said to be cursed, though he had no idea where he was. If the traveler was to be believed, the castle had been stuck in time for at least eighty years. The eternal winter had hinted at something being wrong with the passage of time. He didn't expect it to be this bad. Everything he knew about the world was out of date. Alas, he couldn't stroll into a nearby town and ask if there was a scholar to speak with or a library.

A kingdom trapped in thorns, cursed with sleep. It wasn't like he had any other idea for his future. He had already sacrificed his chance at being a human again to free people. It wouldn't matter if he fell asleep once he breached the thorns. He was already cursed, what was one more? It would be a nice little bonus if he happened to thwart the machinations of some witch or wizard along the way.

Beast slipped through the shadows. He circled around the camp until he was back where the duo had been speaking. There was a small cluster of thorns on the ground. He gathered them and made note of their scent. It would have been better if they were fresh, but he could work with this. He tucked them into the fur along his forearm. Not comfortable in the least, however, he was lacking pockets as his pants were in tatters, barely more than a loincloth now.

He sniffed the air, then took off in the direction the wagons had come.

~~
NOTE:
What do you think? A story of Beast traveling through the world to rescue thankful princesses while conquering evil sorceresses, witches, and queens.
Sounds fun to me. Characters would be influenced by their mouse inspired counterparts, as well as other sources.