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The forest was terrifying at night. At least, that was what the maids and guards always told the second prince every time he looked out at the darkened trees in the distance before bedtime.
“There are monsters with teeth as long as your limbs that won’t hesitate to make a meal of you.”
“Children who don’t sleep on time will get a visit from the forest ghouls.”
Iori was certain there was some truth in the warnings. Every year, for as long as he could remember, the hunters of the town would parade a creature in an iron cage through the streets during the harvest festival. Iori could never forget the warbling howls from within, how as a smaller child he would hide his face in his mother the queen’s skirts in fear. He had begged her to make it go away, year after year, and she had laughed and run her manicured fingers through his soft hair.
It had gone away to somewhere he wasn’t allowed to know. Somehow, the not knowing set a heavy stone in the pit of his stomach. His father the king said it was for the best, that the forest would be safe for another year, but Iori found it troubling. As he grew older, he couldn’t help but question what was in the iron cage and where it went. And why the hunters were always pleased and received the highest praises.
His curiosity about the forest outside the walls grew with his height and age. His brother had gone into it many times for hunting, and he promised to take Iori along when he was old enough. Iori didn’t want to go for the sake of hunting, not after seeing the red staining his brother’s gloves when he came home, or the carcasses hanging tied to sticks like limp flags that he knew would end up in his stew. On those nights, he picked around the chunks of meat.
Of course, his time came with another autumn festival. He was to take up his own bow and arrow, freshly carved by the royal weapons master, and join his brother in the woods.
“You’re old enough now,” his father told him as they waited for the parade to begin, “Or, you will be midwinter. But now is a good time to begin as any.”
“He’s barely twelve,” his mother weakly protested and Iori had wished she’d been louder because he couldn’t be. Not with his father pressing a dagger into his hands, telling him to look forward to learning of its use tomorrow.
“Like my father, and his father!” the king crowed with pride and Iori tried to shrink into his seat.
The streets were lively as ever with townspeople crowding around to watch the parade. Iori usually loved to watch too, how the dancers and singers filled the roads with mirth, how children threw petals in thanks to the rich soil that year. But somehow this year was different. All because of his father’s words and the metal gleaning on his lap.
He looked away when he spotted the hunters rolling their iron box through the jeering crowd. There was a yowling from within, and the anguished noise made Iori look away. As a child, he had feared the cry. Right now, he feared something else.
Food was served as the parade came to its end. People came and gave their greetings, but Iori was still too young to do more than nod. His brother had slipped away to talk with some friends, and he excused himself as well, eyes focused on the street where the hunters’ cart had disappeared.
He followed. To the outskirts of town where crates of traded goods waited for merchants to finish their bartering and fires burned low to keep away the growing chill of the years’ end. Iori had left his cape upon his chair and regretted not taking it with him, but surely the stark white of the material against the dusty dark streets would easily be noticed. Right now, he did not want to be found.
He crouched behind a tall stack of vegetables and peeked at where the iron box with the monster of the woods sat on its wooden cart. Several of the hunters were pulling those sticks of limp bloody flags off, others various weaponry that had been used earlier that day.
“We’ll take care of this later,” one of the hunters said, giving the metal a pat as if it were a dog waiting for scraps.
Iori knew him, a renowned man of his class that directly served his father the king. He was the leader of the royal hunting group and rumored to be the one who always captured the monster of the wood year after year. A skilled archer who even Iori’s prince brother sang his praises.
A low growling came from inside the box and the man gave it a hefty shove with one thick leg, leading to an eruption of angry howling from within and his cursed yells in response.
“Quiet, you beast! Or you’ll be our roast for the night!”
It went silent and the group of surrounding hunters laughed. Several clapped the man on the shoulder and followed him into a nearby building. Live music and loud chattering blared from within when the doors opened, accompanied by cheers to their arrival. When the doors shut behind them, Iori waited a bit longer until the entire area was cleared. It was time for feasting, and he had to ignore the rumbling in his own stomach at the smells wafting in the streets.
He glanced at the iron box housing the captured fiend and his curiosity took hold of his legs. He crept quietly toward the cart, glancing and preparing to run when he heard a raucous chorus of laughter erupt from the building housing the hunting party. No doors swung open and he calmed his breath before edging close enough to touch.
There was a snorting growl that came from within and the closer he stepped, the louder it grew. He swallowed and chanced a brush of his fingers against the cool metal, jumping at the sharp scrapes that answered his nearing footsteps.
The box wasn’t too large, perhaps if he crouched he would fit inside, and he could see that it had been tied up securely with worn rope stained rust-red. There were a few holes in the walls, to allow air he guessed, and a few particularly elongated ones that he could peer into. He chanced to do so and with the aid of some nearby dying fire light, he caught a glimpse of white fur and eyes that glowed gold.
There was a snap of teeth and a growl and he gasped and stumbled back.
That wasn’t an animal!
The building with the feast exploded with sounds of merrymaking as the festivities wore on, and Iori was certain no one had heard the creature—human’s?—sound. But he could sense the louder howls soon to follow the guttural growling, the warning of flashing teeth. Teeth that weren’t as long as his limbs but just like his, except for four that might’ve been as long as his tiniest finger. Like a dog. On a human face.
Human?
“You need to be quiet,” he hissed and peeked around at the buildings again, to make sure no one had come out while he’d been distracted.
The growling continued and then shifted into quiet squeals. Whining that sounded like the dogs that sometimes roamed the streets and made trouble in the gardens.
“He…lp…”
Iori’s breath hitched when he heard the voice. He expected only monstrous roars from his childhood storybooks. The noises from the other iron boxes that had him hiding in his mother’s billowing dresses. Not the voice of a boy that sounded his age.
He swallowed and something in the pit of his stomach led his fingers to the ropes binding the cage door shut.
“Wait. You need to be quiet.”
He couldn’t possibly untie the ropes with his bare hands, weak from only writing and reading and playing the harpsichord. But he remembered the dagger he’d thrust into his belt earlier, the one from his father’s father’s father, and he pulled it free from its sheath and began working at the rope. It was easy to cut, soiled as it was and sharp as was the dagger. He heard another burst of laughter followed by merry singing and quickened the movement of his hand until the last string of rope was torn free.
The heavy door swung open and Iori let out a sharp yell as the creature inside toppled out onto him, both landing on the ground in a heap. He groaned, mind racing with worry that someone must’ve heard and why was a boy like him with pointed fur ears locked up in a cage?
The music and singing and laughter seemed to have died down, or maybe his pounding heart overtook any other noise. He pushed the boycreature off. Boy, he knew, for he was naked and looked about the same aside from the ears. Iori looked past light blue strands of hair caked with dirt and rust-red into blue—not gold—eyes, and then the weight was gone. The other boy ran for the shadows against the city walls toward the forest edge, seemingly led by something the way Iori had been led to him.
He followed, guided by wonder, dagger clutched in a hand paralyzed with adrenaline.
Perhaps there were voices behind them, perhaps his mother and father realized he had gone and not returned from his usual, short wanderings. Perhaps, perhaps. But he kept following after the stark white ears and naked form—a tail, a tail!—and felt his lungs ready to burst with questions.
“Over here!” he called, remembering a secret passage nearby that his father and the captain of the guard had showed him and his brother several times. There were a few of them all over the royal city. In case he ever needed to run away and be safe.
It was a metal gate in the wall, obscured by several abandoned shacks that stood empty, only built in place so a royal escapee could hide.
Iori knew even in the darkness how to find the handle. He felt the other boy press close to him, panting, growling and whining, smelling of rust-red, and he reassured him with a soft “wait, wait” until the door was creaking open. Then they were both crawling, guided by the wood and curiosity to know more.
Iori instinctively pushed the dagger back into its home at his waist and let his hands and knees move him. The fear of what he’d just done settled in his ears like a low pounding drum. They crawled, him and the naked boycreature, through dirt and mud, but he knew the journey would be short because he’d done this many times before for practice. It was dark but the line was a straight shot, and he could already see the light at the end through a small hole that opened into several bushes, planted in place so a royal escapee could run.
At least, he’d been told this. He’d always been asked to crawl back and had never been beyond the wall.
He watched as the boy beside him pulled forward, but he was no longer a boy for he no longer crawled, only ran on four legs, tail waving briskly at his back. Iori crawled to freedom shortly after him, staring at the form that was more than dog and not into the darkness of the forest ahead. His eyes eventually caught another figure standing several feet away, similar white fur with shining golden eyes. Another dogcreature that bared its teeth. Not limb-length either, Iori noticed but froze regardless. The tension broke easily when the rescued one sprang forward and nuzzled snouts together.
Iori watched as the larger of the two glanced at him once more, eyes studying him for a brief second, before it darted off into the woods. The smaller looked at him again, head tilted to the side while softly panting with tongue drooping out, before he too bounded away into the night.
Iori stood there in the darkness, accompanied only by the pounding in his heart and the cold wind that chilled him to his bones. Not knowing what he had done nor why.
Reason took over and he hurried to crawl back into the city. Perhaps he could already hear the call of his name. Perhaps they were searching for him. But he couldn’t be bothered to come up with an excuse for his muddy clothes or the sweat that stuck his hair to his skin. He would be scolded, for sure.
As he stood up once more within the walls of his home and slid shut the metal bars of the hidden grate, he felt his curiosity peak. He heard it then, the guards calling his name in the distance, and as he walked toward the voices he thought of the stark white fur. He hoped to see those blue eyes again someday without the shadows of an iron cage shielding them from view. He wondered about that monster, terrifying and free.