He Was Called Seven

The cold was biting. Winter holds no snow in these parts, not this far South, but it still bites at my skin. A Northern trapper had bellowed a laugh at my shivers one season, but he had died after two months in the South’s heat. I raised the thick collar of my mantle and pulled the hood farther over my face as the thoughts of the trapper fled from my mind. 

Where? 

It had been three days since I had seen a sign of it. No tracks. No traces of its course fur either. In the past, I had caught glimpses of the beast.  

He had grown in the years since the fire that had begun this hunt. He had been six foot then but now in the passing hunts, I saw his height tower to seven and a half. A true monster now. 

Glimpses of his true features still alluded me, but I knew his course, black fur anywhere and those horns... Like two black sickles pointing to the heavens, I could never miss them. I dreamt of the day I could carve them from his skull. 

Walking on, the cold bit at me. South’s winter by the line that blurred the territories was colder than the coasts. My breath floated to the sky and the sun sunk lower and lower.  

I needed to stop. Stop and get warm. That beast couldn’t escape. No matter how far it traveled I always found its trail again. I slung my pack to the cold soil and leaves crackled under its weight. The wood would not gather itself. 

……… 

Cold. It was my only thought. My feeble fire seemed intent on dying as I threw stray leaves and sticks into it. Growls from my body made me groan. Water had been plenty, but food? Food had been scarce, and I refused to steal.  

The fire finally dwindled and sputtered to its pitiful end. Belly empty, eyes weary, I wrapped my cloak and my mantle close to feel any warmth at all as sleep overtook me. 

Elusive as it was every cold night, sleep evaded me as I tossed and turned until something wet hit my nose. My eyes shot open, and I bolted upright.  

Snow? 

Here? 

I must be closer to the Northern territory than I had thought, perhaps even strayed into it. I was not equipped for snow. I got to my feet and trudged on. I needed to find shelter or just keep myself warm enough to march to the next village... 

But as hours crept by, no shelter was in sight and my hands felt numb. The Southern heat I could bear on the worst of days, but a light snow a Northerner would scoff at had become my hell. 

My eyes downcast, I trudged until a rumbling voice almost like a snarl tumbled towards me. 

“Gonna get worse, you know. You can stay here with me until morning.” 

I turned on my heel. A massive figure was sitting in the mouth of an abandoned bear den. Hesitating, I observed him in the darkness. Big guy, I couldn’t see his face, but his black cloak spilled out of the den’s entrance where he sat. I froze. 

He had big, black horns. 

“You,” I uttered, throat dry and strained from the cold. 

I drew my knife and lunged for him. After all this time, all this tracking, all this anger, he was waiting for me like a gift from my gods. He leapt aside and rolled in the shallow snow. His cloak fell to the ground in a heap and for the first time, I saw him fully. 

He was rust-colored and covered in scales. His eyes were a blaring yellow with his sclera being an abyss of black. He had no mane of black fur, but a thick stripe of course fur running from the base of his neck down his spine to the tip of his tail ending in a furry bulb. I lunged again and he moved aside easily. 

“Damn it,” I growled, and I landed a blow on him only to see his toothy grin. Sharp teeth greeted me, and I realized my knife couldn’t even pierce his scales. 

“DAMN IT!” 

I pulled away and threw my knife against a tree. It wedged into the bark with a thud and his gaze followed it. He turned back to me. “Are you done?” 

I threw up my hands and glared at him only to see he had a soft look on his face, “I often wondered when you would catch up to me, but I had a feeling about tonight.” 

“Then what do you want? To kill me?”  

“No, I meant what said, that den is big enough to keep us both warm.” 

I glared at him again and stomped towards the den. If he fell asleep, I could try again and slit his throat... 

He chuckled, picked up his cloak and slung it back onto himself before he settled back into his place in the den. His eyes roved over me and I pulled the hood of my mantle over my face. His voice, like boulders knocking together, reached me again. 

“I know why you hunt me... and you’re wrong, you know.” 

“What do you know, beast?” 

“I know that I did not set that fire.” 

It was like getting smacked with an axe, but my face betrayed nothing. 

“Why should I believe anything you say?” 

“If I had set that fire, shouldn’t I be killing you just as you plot to kill me now?” 

I looked away from him, wringing my hands. He was right. This beast had not tried to attack me once, only dodging my attacks... I shook my head; it was probably a trick.  

I dared to look up at him and only saw sincerity. If it was a trick, it was a damn good one. 

“Answer me this then,” I said. “Why were you at the fire?” 

“Tried to help, couldn’t. Despite my look, I am not immune to fire.” 

As more snow fell, I recalled that day. Sweet Southern spring and I was young and stupid and had never even dreamed of yielding any blade. My only concerns were my chores and the weekly trips to market with my father. I had gone to pick flowers when I saw smoke rising into the sky. Returning, I found my house ablaze and that beast crouching over my father. I tried to shut it away. Shut away how I bellowed at that beast to get away and how my father had no bite marks or bloody wounds. 

No. I had just wanted to hate someone for something I couldn’t stop. 

I put my head into my cold hands and groaned. 

Had I been chasing a lie? 

I felt a huge hand on me, and I jolted away. “Don’t touch me!” 

He moved away instantly and pulled his cloak around himself. 

“I’m sorry,” I muttered. 

“I know,” he began, “it is a lot to take in, but I saw you freezing to death. For hunting me, it is not worth dying.” 

My body surged with adrenaline, but it was not needed. I knew this. I pulled my hood back; the den was shielding the wind from me and so was his massive frame. The cold did not seem to seep into him as badly as it did me. 

“Why did you travel this far towards the border?” 

His eyes lingered on me for a moment. “To end this hunt. I knew the cold would slow you down enough to try and reason with you.” 

“What do you know of me,” I scoffed. 

“If you are hunted by a single human long enough, you know what gets to them. Be grateful I did have you follow me into Spider’s Grove, I know you hate them. Hate me or not, you would have begged for me to carry you out of that place!” He laughed loudly, a raspy sound but not unpleasant. I shoved him lightly. 

“Shove it, beast.” 

“Are you even aware that I have a name?” 

Grimacing, I looked away from him again. I had only seen him as this shape of evil for so long that I couldn’t imagine him even owning a name. “No,” I said gently. 

He rubbed a spot near his neck softly, a spot concealed by his cloak. Eyes distant, he looked at the light snowfall and kicked a clump of it. I cleared my throat. 

“Then what are you called?” 

His eyes met mine. The sincerity I had seen still hung in those eyes and he grinned. I did not see his pointed teeth as daggers of death this time, but I saw a smile that felt happy but weighted with something more.  

“I am Seven.”