Hunter knew the forest better than he knew his parents. That wasn’t saying much, as he’d never met his parents. He reasoned that he must have been in close proximity to his mother at some stage, but that was as a newborn cub and he had no memory of it at all.
His first clear memory was of a warm spring day by the river, foraging for scraps of salmon left on the banks by the big brown bears. Some of them had shown a mild interest in him, but once they got close enough for a good sniff they would back off, snarling and grumbling. And so that had been his life for many years, living off what he could find, and later off what he could catch. But always the other bears would give him a wide berth, never letting him close enough for a proper introduction.
A rustling of fallen leaves alerted him to something approaching. He had an arrow nocked and ready to loose in the blink of an eye. When the hairy sow finally came into view he hesitated, hearing the tiny squeals of the little boarlets trailing behind her. Hunter sighed and eased his grip on the bowstring.
From its perch on one of his broad shoulders, a voice far too loud for its tiny owner squeaked, “If you keep letting them go we’re going to starve to death! We can’t be so picky Hunt. You know someone probably ate your parents and left you to die.”
“Settle down Saturnii.” Hunter’s voice was the night to her day, soft and deep and patient. The tiny woman fluttered her wings, a sure sign of her annoyance as Hunter well knew, and sent a cloud of dusty scales into his face. Too late he tried to hold his breath. It tickled the inside of his nose and made his eyes water, and despite his best attempts it elicited a mighty sneeze that echoed through the forest like a falling tree. The boar and her little family dashed off into the undergrowth.
“Damn it, woman! That would’ve scared off everything for half a mile!”
The little fairymoth pointed a spindly arm at him. “Hey you asked me to come! I wanted to stay home and finish milking the spiders!”
“Yes but…” He returned the arrow to its quiver. “I thought this would be a nice way spend the morning. It feels like we never do anything together anymore.”
He thought she was about to say something else biting and waspish, but she must have noticed something in his eyes, or the way his shoulders slumped ever so slightly. Like a fog lifting from the moors she was suddenly clear and bright and full of genuine concern. “Aww are you okay my big Honey Hunt?” She kissed him on the cheek. “Maybe we should have both stayed home so I could milk you! That way at least one of us would have something to eat.” She winked and wiggled her abdomen in that way that drove him crazy.
His deep-throated laughter shook the leaves. “Deer Lord, Satti! Stop! You’re going to make me turn!” He wasn’t joking either. He could feel his canines lengthening, hair thickening all over his body. Hunter did his very best to think about anything other than the seductive sweep of her wings, or the sensual curves of thorax, or the way she touched him late at night…
He fell onto his hands and knees as limbs and muscles grew and lengthened. The skin of his palms thickened, fingers tripling in size as they sprouted claw and fur, fabric tearing and seams splitting. A red haze bled in at the edge of his vision.
Just as he felt his control slipping away, the smell of blueberries brought him back to reality. Teeth and hair shortened, claws retracted, and in a few heartbeats he was again almost indistinguishable from a human.
“Easy there, big bear.” Saturnii was above him, sprinkling one of her soothing powders. He licked his lips and focus on the tangy sweetness as the last wisp of the bear’s shadow left him. “Are you with me? Hellooo? Hunter?”
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
He got back to his feet and looked at Saturnii through eyes that were black from rim to rim, the only part of him that could never be mistaken for human. “Yes. Yes I’m fine.” Looking down at himself, he added, ”I’m going to need some new clothes though. How much silk do we have?”
* * *
When the gods were creating the new world, mistakes were made. That’s not so surprising when you consider there was no definitive blueprint for a body, nor a cookbook for souls. They made do with what they had, and some things were bound to get mixed up along the way. And so monsters were made, conflicted beings with souls and bodies made up of bits and pieces of whatever was left lying around. Chimeras, lycanthropes, vampires, fairies…a studious observer could deduce what combination of ingredients made up most magical creatures. But much like your mothers’ stew, sometimes there is a little extra in there that you can’t quite identify, and you just know it wouldn’t be the same without it.
“You say monster like it’s a dirty word. We’re people too, you know?”
“You’re not people! You’re monsters! That’s the whole point of having a separate word for it! Look at you, dressed in rags, showing all that skin like some kind of deviant! No decency at all! And you’re dangerous! Everyone knows monsters are violent!” The irony seemed to be lost on the man as he waved his pitchfork around in Hunter's face.
Hands held up to show the man his empty palms, Hunter said, “Look, I’m just here to trade, and I’ll do something about the pants. I have a lot of useful items you could…”
“Cursed! Cursed, all of it! We don’t need your stinking magic!” The pitchfork was now uncomfortably close. “I’ll warn ye once more to leave before we get a good ol’ mob together for a proper monster hunt!”
Hunter’s backpack jiggled as Saturnii fumed in her hiding place. For the second time today, he wondered if it would have been wiser to leave her at home. There was already a good chance this farmer was going to wake up with gout and worms tomorrow. If he kept pushing his luck his entire crop might be blighted. Fairymoths are not renowned for their forbearance or forgiveness.
“What’s that in your sack? Are you stealing our babies?”
He couldn’t help but laugh. “Steal your babies? Why would anyone want to steal a baby? I don’t even want kids of my own, let alone one of yours.”
“Oh yeh? So what’s in there then?”
“I…caught a squirrel. They taste better fresh, right?”
“Ay, that they do.” He lowered the pitchfork. “Is that all you got to trade?”
Hunter sensed an opening, and decided it was time for the sales pitch. “My good man, have you ever wondered what life would be like without fleas?”
“Don’t need your fleas, we got plenty of our own.”
“No, no. I have with me a powder that gets rid of fleas! Easy to apply, and results are absolutely guaranteed.”
“Oh yeh?” He scratched at his patchy beard. “Can you use it, like, anywhere?”
Hunter knew exactly what the man was implying and rolled with it. “Anywhere, my good man, even the most sensitive areas. It’ll get rid of ticks too, and with the wet season approaching that’s something to consider. My motto is Don’t Risk A Tick On Your…”
A harshly feminine voice interrupted with a shout of, “Hey! William! Who you talking to?”
The farmer winced. He ignored the woman approaching from the farmhouse and said quickly, “How much is this powder?”
“For you, Master William, a single copper coin, or…” he gestured towards the farm where rows of busy beehives were visible. ”I see your apiary is flourishing. I will gladly trade for some of your very fine honey. And perhaps you would be so kind as to direct me to a tailor or a seamstress?”
They completed their business and Hunter moved on. For the better part of the day the pair went from farm to farm, repeating the same tired ritual over and over. Hunter would bear the brunt of human prejudice and insist he was no threat, usually winning them over enough that he could hawk some of Saturnii’s powders.
Eventually they found a ranch with a farrier close to Hunter’s size, not an easy thing considering he was close to seven feet tall. He happily traded two pair of wool trousers for a hollowed acorn filled with levitation dust. The last thing Hunter saw as he left was a very confused mare floating a few inches off the ground as it had new horseshoes fitted.
“Pants, honey, a leg of ham, basket of apples, iron needles…not bad eh?”
“Small reward for spending most of the day in a sack! Not really what I’d call quality time, Hunt.”
“Sorry, but we won’t have to risk it again for a while. They weren’t too bad this time, once they get past the eyes. Can’t imagine what they’d do if they saw you.”
“Pfft. Fairies don’t scare them. Imagine if they saw a witch!”
The sun dipped further below the horizon, but the red glow to the west only seemed to grow brighter. A gentle breeze stirred and Hunt sniffed the air. Something was burning.