Feral Heart

She glared at the beast before her. "I would not, and could not, give my power to one as base as you," she spat derisively. "Look at what you have become. You are more than disgusting."

The beast sneered. "I am doing what you would not," it insisted. "There is no option for passive aggression. There is only aggression."

Behind the monster, Ryan watched as the shirt he wore became saturated with blood. With grunting effort, he peeled it off and cast it aside. The wounds puckered, but still leached. All he heard was the hammering of his own heart within his ears. He thought about rolling onto his back, so that, at the least, he could look up at the dark night sky and the stars beyond as he died. Perhaps he might see a falling star.

But from somewhere within him came a different directive. Despite the weakness assailing his limbs, he found the will to move.

You're not dead yet, he realized indomitably. And neither is Una.

Grunting with the effort, he took up the knife and pushed himself to his feet. Laboriously, his senses dulled and twisting and fogged as if by alcohol, he turned and made the Herculean effort to focus his attention upon the beauty and the beast.

The beast had it's back to him as it gloated before Una.

A reckless smile split Ryan's lips. Perfect.

He lumbered forth.

"Any last words?" the monster asked Una as it raised a menacing claw.

Her eyes darted past the monster for a moment, seeing Ryan's rush. She suddenly smiled up at the beast.

"Yes," she whispered harshly. "Burn in eternity."

The monster hesitated a moment, and that was all it took to seal its fate. Behind him, Ryan charged, and at the last moment, as he leapt, he bellowed a primal cry which shattered the air around them, just before the crude tip of the knife sunk deep into hairy, dark flesh. Despite his condition, Ryan had managed to aim true; the blade sliced between the third and fourth rib, angled in toward the heart. But it did not penetrate deeply enough.

Still, the monster howled in mortal pain, staggering back and flailing at the embedded knife. But it could not reach the impaled weapon.

Ryan tumbled onto the ground beside Una, gasping in pain, coughing blood. Yet he managed to find the pain to stand once more and advance upon the wounded beast. Spittle thick with blood dripped from his mouth. What precious reserves of strength he had left were poured into his next few actions.

"I told you," wheezed Ryan as he stumbled wearily before the convulsing monster. "That I'd . . . take . . . you . . . down!"

The last of his strength was directed into a series of powerful blows across the beast's jaw, each of them eliciting gouts of blood and grunts of pain. The monster staggered with each blow, flailing blindly. Finally, with supreme effort, Ryan crashed his fist into the underside of the creature's bloodied jaw, sending it toppling. The monster thundered onto it's back, which drove the knife deep through its body, slicing the heart in two.

The monster had only time to issue forth a single bellow of agony before it fell silent and still. The beast was dead.

Ryan collapsed to the ground, spilling blood from his mouth. He rolled onto his back, staring upward as the darkness began to close in. A true smile decorated his face, one of pride and personal salvation. I did it, he thought.

Upon the death of the beast, Una's bonds instantly shattered and fell away. She lurched forth, scrambling to Ryan's side and cradling his head in her arms. Her face was a mask of emotion. Tears trickled down her cheeks. Still, however, she smiled.

"I could not have asked for a more magnificent champion," she whispered.

Ryan smiled up at her, teeth painted with blood. More of it coated his cheeks. He coughed, sending spatters of ichor around his mouth. He managed to speak through bloodied sputters. "You asked me . . . if it was worth . . . sacrificing . . . my life . . . for a woman . . . I didn't know."

She smoothed back his hair, giving him a fond look. "Is it?" she asked.

He nodded with a smile only a dying man could give. "I did it right . . . this time."

"So you did," Una agreed, her voice barely inaudible. Then, she tilted her head back and drew in a deep breath. Looking back down upon Ryan, she smiled genuinely before doubling over and smothering his lips with hers, breathing into his mouth.

* * * *

Martin Milton stood upon the road before the massive red and yellow sign. Before, he had been proud of it, but in light of recent events, it just seemed garish.

He tipped his hat and wiped sweat from a tired brow. The previous two days had been a roller coaster of emotion. First was the discovery of the man he had sent, who had never arrived at the local police station. He had been found dead, his truck upside down on the side of the road. Then came the questions once the rest of them did make it.

Now there was only the aftermath. The bodies had all been recovered, the remains of the campsites cleared. All that remained were the trailers and tractors and the land-clearing equipment. Now his remaining men were advancing across the street toward the site.

"Eight confirmed dead," mused the woman who stepped up from behind him. She was tall and amazonian, pretty in a rugged, impressive way despite the lack of flattery provided by her Fish and Wildlife Service uniform. "I think this was the worst tragedy this county's ever seen."

"Wish I hadn't been part of it, Miss Cooley," Milton murmured sourly.

She settled her hands to her hips and glanced sidelong to the round-bodied man. "Please, Mr. Milton," she said. "Call me Brett."

He tilted his head, offering a crooked smile. "Blame it on my upbringing," he explained. "I tend to be more formal with ladies . . ." he trailed off briefly. "Most of them."

She laughed softly. "Ryan was like that, too," she said under her breath. She cleared her throat and nodded toward Milton's men, as they affixed small devices to the supports of the sign. "Getting back to work?" she asked. "Guess I can't blame you, with all the money you invested--"

Her words were cut off by a rapid series of sharp explosive bursts, which shattered the support struts of the massive wooden sign. With a creaking of wood and rush of air, the sign slapped heavily onto the road before it, stirring up a massive cloud of dust and dirt that rolled across the road.

"Nope," Milton said simply. He breathed in deeply, let it out. "Packing up. I been thinking that maybe it's time I looked for other, uh, ventures. Reforestation, maybe. There's actually some pretty good money in it. Maybe I'll start right here."

Brett nodded with a chuckle. "Can't argue your decision," she said. "You and your men have been through a lot."

"That's one way to put it," Milton grumbled. "So, what's the final word on what killed my boys?"

"Bear attack," Brett answered. "They've been known to be extremely territorial."

"'Bear attack,'" Milton repeated. He shook his head ruefully.

"Obviously, you don't agree," Brett said. "You still think it was 'something not natural?'" she asked, repeating the words Milton had spoken during his deposition the previous day.

"Don't really matter what I think, does it?" he asked rhetorically. "Y'all already made up your minds about it. But don't think I'm bitter. You can't exactly explain something that ain't supposed to exist in a way that makes sense."

Brett said nothing.

Milton worked his jaw, letting his eyes wander. For a moment, upon a ridge more than a hundred yards away, he thought he saw two figures standing against the forested background. But in the time it took for Milton to frown, blink, and focus, they were gone.

Brett emitted a wondering sigh. "It still bothers me that we haven't found Ryan Welch, or that woman -- Una -- you mentioned," she said. "At the least, I'd like to know if Welch is still alive."

Milton found himself smiling knowingly. He turned to the tall woman. "Oh, I got me a feeling they're still out there. Somewhere. But I doubt you're ever gonna find them."

Puzzled, Brett watched after Milton as he strode across the street, shouting orders to his crewmen. She could not shake the feeling that there was something she was not understanding, something extraordinary that only Martin Milton and his remaining men -- all of whom seemed strangely philosophical during their depositions -- truly knew. But as much as that thought vexed her, she knew there was truly nothing she could do about it.

With a somber hunch of her shoulders, she turned and headed back to her truck, already preparing the email message she would send to her superiors: Agent Ryan Welch is presumed missing and dead.

* * * *

Stepping back from the top of the ridge, Una smiled gratefully as she watched Martin Milton's logging company dismantle their operation. She would wonder as to the exact reasons why the gruff businessman had changed his mind about invading her forest, but she liked to think his change of hearty was more due to a newfound appreciation for the wonders -- and terrors -- of the natural world.

"Free for the moment," she muttered wistfully.

"But for how long?"

She trained her gaze upon the figure crouched beside her, smile growing as she looked upon him. "There will always be threats to our forest," she said. "That is an inevitable circumstance to the life of the fae."

Ryan growled faintly in contemplation, balanced upon his toes, a claw-tipped hand touching the ground before him. "A life I have to get used to," he said, then looked down upon his body, covered as it was in a fine coat of short, golden-brown fur. "Not to mention . . . this."

Una laughed softly and stroked her hand back across Ryan's head. "You will," she assured him. "This is your life, now. With me."

He cocked his head and looked up at her, human emotion still telling despite the feral face he now wore. "I'm hungry," he declared.

She arched an eyebrow. "Oh? Then hunt. Find us something to eat. Just return to me by nightfall." She knelt and caressed his face. Her emerald eyes glittered with erotic promise. "I will reward you accordingly."

Ryan grinned. "In that case," he said. "I will bring back the fattest, largest buck you have ever seen." And with that, he turned and sprang toward the forest, loping and leaping with inhuman speed and power.

Una watched him proudly, then slowly headed away from the ridge and toward her tree -- their tree -- to prepare for her lover's return. She knew she would need the rest to rejuvenate her strength.

-fin-

(I hope you have enjoyed this fantastic tale. I truly enjoyed writing this one. Feel free to leave a comment below, telling me what you liked -- or did not like -- about this story, and please, don't forget to vote. I also encourage you to read all of this year's Earth Day contest submissions. There is a lot of very good talent out there.)