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Authors: Elizabeth Darcy
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the reflecting pool to have a look at her, but quickly brushed the idea aside. It would do me no good to look at the maiden unless she appeared at the castle, and what did it matter to me at any rate? Her appearance was of no consequence; all that mattered was that I do whatever was necessary to make her fall in love with me so that the curse could be broken. She need not be a beauty or a wit in order for this to happen. In fact, it would serve me best were she a simpering fool.
Unsettled, I paced my chamber, but this was inadequate exercise for the excited state of my mind. Moving over to one of my glassless windows, I took in a deep breath of the fresh night air and decided that it was a night for hunting. The air was crisp and chill and held the scent of late autumn: a mixture of decaying leaves and approaching snow. The fresh air would revive me and, as none of the creatures of the forest came anywhere near my castle, an invigorating run would be necessary in order to find prey.
Hunting was how I obtained many of my meals. My servants prepared food for me on a regular basis, but I had to indulge this bestial part of myself from time to time and, in truth, it brought me immense--though fleeting--enjoyment. I had always liked to hunt, but there was no human sensation to compare to the animal sensation of the thrill of the hunt, the intoxicating sense of satisfaction that washed over me when I made a kill. Moreover, eating prepared meals was an infuriating challenge. Now that I possessed paws rather than hands, it was impossible for me to hold eating utensils, and I had broken more plates than I could count in my efforts to eat from them. Eating what I had hunted was easy and natural.
I bounded from my chambers and out of the castle, running swiftly and almost silently. I could cross great distances in a very short amount of time and it was not long before I was several leagues away from the castle. My breathing was gently labored as I stopped and concealed myself within the thick screen of trees and undergrowth. Pricking my ears, I listened carefully for signs of prey. My eyes prowled the darkness, looking for movement, and my nose twitched as I took in and analyzed the many scents of the night. Before long, I caught one of my favorite scents and crouched even lower as the beast approached.
From the first time I had hunted, I had known instinctively that I needed to remain downwind in order to conceal my presence from my prey. I remained motionless and silent as the buck entered the clearing just on the other side of the cover in which I had concealed myself. He was magnificent, one of the largest bucks I had seen in some time. His head was crowned with a very impressive set of antlers, telling me that he was a dominant male. He looked around, his ears turning from side to side as he assessed the situation. After a moment, he made the fatal error of deciding that he was safe, and he bent his head, grazing some low-hanging leaves.
I smiled at his lack of awareness, my blood quickening. Saliva dripped from my fangs, a delicious sensation of ferocity suffusing me, and I sprang. The buck had only time to look up and register terror at the sight of me. The scent of the fear emanating from his body provoked sharp pangs of hunger, and my fangs sunk greedily into his tender neck. He let out one brief cry of agony before falling forever silent. Wasting no time, I gave in to my urge to gorge myself, savagely ripping his flesh from his bones. When I had eaten my fill, I remained in the clearing for several moments, the air heavy with the scent of blood, as I listened to the wind whisper through the trees.
At last, I set back for the castle, running again but more slowly this time, for I knew what was about to happen. Even though I felt a heady sense of euphoria as I hunted, even though I gave myself over to the animal part of me, the human part always returned afterward, leaving me consumed with loathing and revulsion. As I
Unsettled, I paced my chamber, but this was inadequate exercise for the excited state of my mind. Moving over to one of my glassless windows, I took in a deep breath of the fresh night air and decided that it was a night for hunting. The air was crisp and chill and held the scent of late autumn: a mixture of decaying leaves and approaching snow. The fresh air would revive me and, as none of the creatures of the forest came anywhere near my castle, an invigorating run would be necessary in order to find prey.
Hunting was how I obtained many of my meals. My servants prepared food for me on a regular basis, but I had to indulge this bestial part of myself from time to time and, in truth, it brought me immense--though fleeting--enjoyment. I had always liked to hunt, but there was no human sensation to compare to the animal sensation of the thrill of the hunt, the intoxicating sense of satisfaction that washed over me when I made a kill. Moreover, eating prepared meals was an infuriating challenge. Now that I possessed paws rather than hands, it was impossible for me to hold eating utensils, and I had broken more plates than I could count in my efforts to eat from them. Eating what I had hunted was easy and natural.
I bounded from my chambers and out of the castle, running swiftly and almost silently. I could cross great distances in a very short amount of time and it was not long before I was several leagues away from the castle. My breathing was gently labored as I stopped and concealed myself within the thick screen of trees and undergrowth. Pricking my ears, I listened carefully for signs of prey. My eyes prowled the darkness, looking for movement, and my nose twitched as I took in and analyzed the many scents of the night. Before long, I caught one of my favorite scents and crouched even lower as the beast approached.
From the first time I had hunted, I had known instinctively that I needed to remain downwind in order to conceal my presence from my prey. I remained motionless and silent as the buck entered the clearing just on the other side of the cover in which I had concealed myself. He was magnificent, one of the largest bucks I had seen in some time. His head was crowned with a very impressive set of antlers, telling me that he was a dominant male. He looked around, his ears turning from side to side as he assessed the situation. After a moment, he made the fatal error of deciding that he was safe, and he bent his head, grazing some low-hanging leaves.
I smiled at his lack of awareness, my blood quickening. Saliva dripped from my fangs, a delicious sensation of ferocity suffusing me, and I sprang. The buck had only time to look up and register terror at the sight of me. The scent of the fear emanating from his body provoked sharp pangs of hunger, and my fangs sunk greedily into his tender neck. He let out one brief cry of agony before falling forever silent. Wasting no time, I gave in to my urge to gorge myself, savagely ripping his flesh from his bones. When I had eaten my fill, I remained in the clearing for several moments, the air heavy with the scent of blood, as I listened to the wind whisper through the trees.
At last, I set back for the castle, running again but more slowly this time, for I knew what was about to happen. Even though I felt a heady sense of euphoria as I hunted, even though I gave myself over to the animal part of me, the human part always returned afterward, leaving me consumed with loathing and revulsion. As I
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