The Beast. That's what they called him now.

 They were right, he supposed.

 Twigs snapped under his large paws, stained brown from days of restless wandering through these endless woods. He wasn't sure how much time had passed since he'd been sent into the Black Wood. Claimed by the forest. Couldn't remember his name or what he looked like. He remembered his mother, though. Her soft brown eyes and black curls. Her soft skin and kind smile. His father, with his light eyes and lighter hair, his booming laughs when he found something funny. His rib-crushing hugs.

 He remembered his sisters. Twins, one with eyes as blue as sapphires, so he'd heard from a foreign merchant, and the other with irises the color of coal. He remembered carrying them on his back, twirling around and dancing with them around a fire as their father played his lute, the bright sound of it's tangy sound paired with the girl's giggles echoing through the forest, following him... Haunting him.

 He must have looked somewhat like them, he thought as he continued through the dark forest. It was a shame he would never see them again. Perhaps when he died... he would get to dance with his sisters again. Spin them around in the clouds and hold them close. He would never let go again.

~

 The moon had risen, and with it a series of howls filled the empty silence of the Black Wood. They were coming for him. Every night the Beast heard the wolves. Every night they grew closer. Every night, he ran away.

 He did not want to see them. Become one of them.

 But he was hungry... And oh so tired from constant nights awake and running. He could not hunt. Could not navigate this forest. This sinister, dark forest that had taken his life away. Another howl, even closer than the last.

 The Beast took a step forward. Another. His limbs were too stiff, his eyes too heavy. Perhaps... Perhaps he should sit and rest for a moment. Just a moment. That was all he would need, he told himself as he lay down on a soft bed of moss, his head coming to rest on his front paws. He huffed a sigh of relief, of exhaustion, and closed his eyes.

 He only needed a moment.

 Just... a moment.

 One

                              moment

                                                             to                 rest

       just

                    a 

                                                 moment...

~

 Something soft and wet prodded into the Beast's side. He shifted, trying to shake it off. But it wouldn't budge, sniffing and nuzzling into his white fur. He blinked his eyes open, realizing must have drifted off.

 Which meant...

 The Beast jerked, jumping to his feet. Before he knew what he was doing, he found himself turned towards the black fox, head down, teeth bared, hackles raised. A low growl sounded in his throat, startling him.

 The fox only blinked, its deep brown eyes large and innocent. A moment passed where the two creatures simply stared at each other. Then the fox moved closer, slowly, as if approaching a predator. The Beast did not move an inch. Did not breathe. The other animal inched slowly closer until they were a fingers-breath apart.

 The creature's eyes bored into his own. They were so dark he could see his own gaze reflecting back at him. For the first time in a long time, the Beast saw himself. His reflection. Tangled fur that had once been white, now a muddy brown. Large golden eyes, like fresh honey stared at him, seeming to ask, what happened to you? 

 He wished he knew. Wished he could find whatever had pulled him into the forest. Wished he could go back and make it right. That question seemed to be reflected in the fox's soft eyes. He nuzzled him once more, seeming to say, it will be alright. 

 The fox turned, black fur slightly ruffled and blinked slowly. Follow me.

 When the Beast made no move to follow, the fox turned and began to walk away through the underbrush. Giggles of children and the delicate sound of his father's lute seemed to grow loud, then faint, as if fading with the fox. Following it.

 A hand seemed to reach for him, calling him forward. Follow the fox, it said.

 So he did.

 Through thick trees and tall grass they walked. The howling of the wolves had ceased. The silence that remained was somehow louder.

 The white wolf followed the black fox for what could have been minutes or hours. He did not bother to try and keep count, focusing only on the white-tipped tail bobbing and swishing through the bushes.

 Every now and then the fox would stop. Look at the wolf, a lingering question in its eyes. He did not know what it meant. So he did not try to answer.

 Through the woods they walked, the only noise being the crunching of leaves beneath their soft paws.

 Eventually, the trees began to grow closer together, the roots becoming more gnarled and twisted. The fox slipped swiftly between the low branches, but their sharp ends snagged in the Beast's fur as he passed. This body was still too strange. He still did not know how to move in it. How to be quick, and silent. He had attempted hunting... but had been too loud and alerted the prey almost every time. Until, for a brief moment, his predatory instincts seemed to briefly kick in. Before he knew it, he had a rabbit squirming beneath his thick, gleaming claws. The small animal had looked his way, pure fear in its dilated pupils. He could hear it's heart pounding, smell it's utter terror. His own heart thudded back, almost as quickly as the rabbit's, as he thought about what he was about to do. What he had almost done.

 That was when he realized.

 He could not do it.

 He may be a beast. A monster. But he was not a murderer. 

The swish of the fox's tail brought him back to the present. The branches now hung so low he had to crouch, though the fox trotted forward with ease. The shadows seemed to thicken until they looked almost physical.

 The Beast blinked, and they were in a clearing. The sky above was blotted out by the large criss-crossing branches, and the dark grass swayed slowly, rhythmically. Large dark flowers, a purple so deep they looked black, grew in fat clusters around the clearing. The Beast looked around for the fox, finding it perched atop a large, round bolder standing in the middle.

 Except the fox wasn't the fox anymore.

 A girl, about his age, he thought, sat on the boulder, her ancient onyx eyes piercing his own as if she could see right through him. See what lay beneath all the fur and fangs. She sat unnaturally still. So still, he thought, that she looked like a statue, her straight sheet of black hair, as dark as the fox's fur, brushing softly against her shoulders. Her feet were bare, and she wore a black dress that clung to her small body, the surface shifting like waves of shadow.

 Her lips parted into a smile, the sudden movement, even so small, was jarring.

 "Hello, Lowell."