In Dreams: Red

The Beast

“Kennice..” Silas says softly. There is blood, so much of it on him.

“Silas, no, no! Silas!” I cry. He is slipping from his knees to the ground, his eyes have begun to droop, his lips form a smile.

“Hold your blade properly, young Lady.” He breathes. There are men running towards me from the trees. I do not care. I have to help Silas, and feel my fingers slipping through the blood as I clutch at his chest, trying to staunch the blood. I hear the thundering of hooves, feet, a clash of steel, a sudden cry, and a war call. There is a man just a few feet from me, blade drawn, rushing in my direction, but he keeps blurring in and out of view. I must be crying, but I can't afford to, and with a sense of detachment I feel myself getting frustrated when Silas blurs too, and I can hardly see him anymore.

“Silas, Silas, get up, get up!” I realize I'm yelling as I pull at his shirt, like I am a child again, waking him in the early morning hours to go for a horse ride, for training, or for breakfast. All of which I had memories for, which were playing over in my mind as I shook him. “Please, please Silas wake up, wake up. You have to get up.” And I can't see him anymore, but I hear the man who is running at me call out in triumph. I will be easy prey. I lay my head on Silas' chest. The tears may be blinding me, but I can still feel the blood soaked cloth of his shirt, and I'm not going to move from here ever again, and that's alright with me now. Now I know I'm crying as hot tears soak my face and fingers. I rub my eyes, trying desperately to see Silas in the last few minutes I have left. The man has practically reached my side, but he does not matter, I know now that Silas is dead. My fingers go to my waist and the hidden blade there. A sudden brown blur distracts me. The prisoner, bound on his horse, has suddenly twisted in mid-air. He explodes in brown fur and suddenly doubles, then triples in size. The man targeting me has his sword raised for a blow, but has stopped just as suddenly. The large brown beast streaks past me, snarling, and bowls the man over, knocking him a good ten feet away. It pounces and blood is again splattering everywhere as the man is torn apart. The beast bolts back in my direction, and just before reaching me, smoothly transforms back into human shape, hair falling off of him and as he decreases in size so quickly my eyes can't follow the process. He tumbles to my side and grabs my arms, twisting so his back is to me and pulls me up smoothly onto his back as he once again shifts into the monstrous beast with me now astride its back. If I hadn't been so wrapped up in my grief I would have been impressed at the complete suavity of the whole feat. He/it, I have no idea what to call it, retreats behind the fighting with me still clinging to it, and races rapidly back to our camp. I hear a steady rumbling growl. The beast's ears are pulled back, lips pulled up into a snarl. There is a rumbling of hooves behind us and the beast twists around, haunches tightening, ready to spring, the growling intensifies, and I am terrified in spite of myself. Reginald, Corwin and Tyrus ride into view, looking bloody and wary, but blessedly alive. The beast looks past them, still on alert, but visibly relaxes when no pursuers come into view.

“My Lady, are you hurt? Is everything alright?” Reginald is eyeing the beast fearfully.

“Silas, and the others?” I ask.

“He is dead, my Lady. They all are.” Reginald replies solemnly. I burst into shameful tears again, burying my face in the beast's fur. There is a strange shifting and rippling movement beneath me and I find myself standing on the ground. The prisoner suddenly has his arms wrapped protectively around me, muscles still tense, my face at his chest, tears soaking us both. It registers in the back of my head that my tears are falling on his bare chest.

“And the others, those that ambushed us?” The prisoner asks Reginald.

“Most are dead, but a few have fled back to the neighboring village. WE need to be on our way quickly before they return with reinforcements. They made off with most of the horses. I'm afraid we will have to leave the dead behind if we wish to escape with our lives.” Reginald reports. This causes me to cry harder. The prisoner holds me more tightly against his chest.

“I don't trust them, can you three get her horse and the other attached to it, and allow me to be of some use, please. I'll carry her for a while, I don't trust this form while they're close enough to cause us damage. They have already almost wiped us out once, and one of them had almost gotten to our Lady.” The prisoner states. The three men are looking at him doubtfully as if there was more not to trust than the band of murderers, but also there was a spark of fear in their eyes, like they were afraid to argue with him.

“My Lady?” Reginald waits for my instruction doubtfully. The prisoner once again executes a finely tuned shift from man to beast, pulling me upward onto his back at just the right moment. He growls softly as if to voice his frustration and get them moving. I nod weakly.

“Yes, let's go quickly. I'll be fine-I do know how to take care of myself.” I reply. Reginald looks at me, there's still doubt in his eyes, but he rides over and grabs Lupus' reins. Corwin grabs the reins of the other horse with the corpse on it, and Tyrus begins galloping back the way we came. The beast keeps pace easily, surrounded by my father's three remaining soldiers. As we pass the bodies and small grove of trees, I bury my face in the beast's fur and cry silently. I feel more than hear a soft rumbling whine from the beast, almost like an apology.

I have lost track of time, my face is still buried in the beast's fur and the tears have finally slowed, but I have that exhausted sluggish feeling that you get after a hard, terrible cry. I am completely and emotionally drained and want to fall into oblivion and forget the world. Maybe forever. We have slowed. I hear the ragged breathing of the horses and men. Even the beast is panting, and I can feel his footfalls slowing, the muscles rolling and straining to keep his body moving forward.

“Halt.” Reginald exhales, then more loudly “Halt! I think.. we can stop.. here for now.. no sign.. pursuers.. horses tires.. so are we..” The horse's footsteps falter and stop. The beast shudders to a halt and again I feel the ripply shifting motion and the beast becomes man, still with his arms protectively thrown around me. Both of us are exhausted, just as the men around us. They groan and practically fall out of their saddles. The prisoner and I slip into a seated position on the ground, he still cradles my head to his chest. His breathing is ragged, but he nevertheless tries to speak.

“..alright.. M'Lady?” He asks. I try to nod, and holding my shoulders, he pushes me away from him far enough to look at my face. I refuse to meet his gaze, don't really care to, staring at my hands in my lap.

“...In shock..” I hear him say to one of the other men. “..a blanket and water..” A blanket is dropped around my shoulders, water pushed into my hands. I stare at it, numb, unsure and uncaring what to do with it. Hands push the water towards my lips, forcing me to drink. I look up to see Silas smiling kindly down at me, only to have the image dissolve into the face of the prisoner. A fresh wave of tears overcomes me and I am pulled into a hasty one-armed hug. Blanket material scratches my face. I note that someone has draped a blanket around the prisoner as well, and he is using his other hand to hold it closed to preserve his modesty. The whole situation would be so.. ludicrous, if it wasn't so upsetting. I cry myself out and lose myself to darkness, where caring no longer matters and there are no dreams.