The Dark Beast's Love

Halfway through the month, we had both fallen into a routine that worked for both of us, or at least into a routine that worked with as little communication as possible. Riven clearly had things to do every day, from waking up in the early morning to collecting ingredients for the day's meal such as eggs from the chickens and harvesting the ripe fruit from the field. Due to his early mornings, he's always first to make breakfast, and irritatingly enough, he always makes sure to leave a plate for me, even on the days I wake up before him he's faster with his morning duties.

Clothes and sleeping is another thing that had to be arranged when I finally decided to reenter the house after the first day. I had entered with gratefulness of the shielding from the cold wind only to see that Riven had already put a blanket and a pillow on the long couch in the living room, as well as some lukewarm food on the table, the plate containing mashed potatoes and a piece for grilled meat, as well as roasted paprika, and all I could think about was how unfair it was that he could cook something so satisfying for my taste buds while murdering innocent people every month.

What surprised me however when Riven finally exited the bathroom with new clothes (his last ones had been bloodied down) was that he threw himself on the couch without hesitation, burying his face in the pillow as he exhaustingly exhaled and relaxed his muscles. I almost uttered my concern for him, and most of all, almost insisted that he should take the bed since it was his home after all, but then I remembered that I wasn't supposed to talk to him, not even tolerate him. It had been hard to remember that when he'd been so relaxed and unguarded with his light hair covering parts of his face while his long lashes threw a shadow over his skin. During the sixteen days that had passed since, and I had found it harder and harder to remember that he was a beast, but every time I was reminded of it, the hatred only grew wilder and wilder.

It wasn't until day five that I finally caved in to all the questions I had for him. They had just been piling up since our paths parting, my curiosity overcoming my bitterness every time I saw him do something that seemed a little out of place, the first thing being when he buried the skin of the deer along with the bones instead of using it for warmth when necessary. When I had approached him to ask, his eyes had been wide with surprise over the fact that I was speaking to him, and it had even taken him another moment before he'd finally answered, explaining that burying the skin and the bone was like an offering to the place and the magic that kept his grains growing quicker than what they otherwise should and his chicken alive for eggs and meat when their live's comes to an end, but not until another generation is born to serve the same purpose.

After that olive branch had been offered, it had been a little easier to get around things. I still avoided socialising with him, but I helped out in the house to an extent. For example, collecting vegetables while he collected the eggs, or checking the fish trap in the river while he chopped wood. It was strange how easily adapted to survival this place was, always providing greens and fruit, always eggs to find the next morning, most times fish in the traps and no matter how many times I'd seen Riven chop wood, his forest didn't grow any smaller. It didn't take me a long time to realise that there was magic involved, and it was another thing I needed to learn in order to survive on my own in this place.

"How is this possible?" I had muttered under my breath once when I saw green in the place where I had planted tomato seeds just the day before, and somehow Riven had heard it from where he was harvesting cucumbers. "Magic," Riven had replied as if it was obvious. "Most things here are magic, as long as we keep giving back."

My eyes had met him that day, and I had to swallow down the insult I wanted to throw in his face.Text content © NôvelDrama.Org.

"Like the deerskin?" I had asked instead, and he had nodded.

"The piece of wood I bury every time I chop down a tree as well. And the seeds and kernels that the fruits leave behind. Everything we can give back, we give back, and in return, we get food and fresh water from the river."

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"So it's like a trade?" I questioned and he nodded.

"Since the traders can't reach me here, nature has taken over the role. And it works, without a small carriage to limit the supply of course," He snickered, proud over his joke, I had rested the urge to roll his eyes. But what he didn't know was that he had given me the last thing I needed to survive the place on my own. Sure, it will take a lot of time before I get every offering exactly right but based on what I've seen him doing, it was nothing too difficult, I just need to remember that instead of throwing it all into the fire, I would collect them all and offer them back to the ground.

On the nineteenth night of my stay in the house, I felt an itch crawling under my skin as I tried to sleep. The bed was more comfortable than any other bed I've ever had the privilege to lie on, and the comforter as well as the pillow was soft like a thousand clouds, but the problem wasn't with anything physical, it was my mind that was driving me mad. I couldn't get over the fact that the full moon was almost here and that if I waited too long, there would be another victim for the next month. The fact that I could hear him breathing as soon as I opened the door between the bedroom and the living room served as a continual reminder that I had permitted every breath he took. What was worse was probably the part of me that told me that he had done me no harm at all while I'd been here. If anything, he's been more than a generous host considering how bitter my own attitude towards him had been. If he wasn't the beast, then he would be the first human life I took, and the thought made me shiver.

As if the world wanted to make my decision more difficult (or easier depending in how you viewed it) I had nightmares about my mother that night, about her scream, about how her body had looked like in the aftermath of it all. I had awoken by the sound of the crashing door, (the same way it was split to pieces the night I was taken), and I had run from the little shaft towards the house just to see that the beast was already gone, and my mother already dead. It was always that moment that haunted my dreams, the sight of my mother's corpse and her scream as I was running towards her. The dream itself could always change, the location, what I was doing before, but I was always running towards her in the end, and I was always too late.

On the twentieth night, I stood over Riven with a knife in my hand, the darkness surrounding us both and only the sound of our breathing echoing between the walls. Still, I could see his form in the dark, the way his bare chest was moving with his breathing since he seemed to have disregarded his shirt on the floor and the peaceful expression he had as he slept. I had tightened my grip around the handle of the knife, fighting every ounce of doubt there was in my body with a focus on the evil deeds he had done. It is not human to trade a life for a life, but a life for many was something I couldn't oversee. However, just as I was about to raise my right arm and aim for the heart, just as I was about to have steel meet flesh again, his hands shot and gripped my left wrist.

"Don't," Riven had murmured under his breath, not even opening his eyes. "It won't work, he will not let you harm me and I would rather avoid whatever nasty scar he would give you in return."

I remembered not being able to breathe as I felt his touch on my wrist, and had waited for him to rise and kill me on the spot. He hadn't. He'd just shifted his position until he had his back towards me and gone back to sleep. I had never been more confused in my entire life.

The next day he didn't even mention it. He just continued doing his daily chores and continued leaving food on the table for me as if I hadn't just tried to kill him just some hours before. It made me feel awful and I considered apologising to him but at the same time, I didn't want us to talk about it at all, so I followed his lead and pretended as if nothing had happened.

The morning of my twenty-fourth day here, there was a boy washed up on the edge of the river.