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Nimona only has one word repeating in her mind: escape.
She’s getting poked and prodded by pitchforks and shovels, lit torches being shoved in her face and towards her body. She smells smoke, she tastes blood, it hurts where the flames lick at her skin- fur- scales. She hisses and scratches and roars and growls, trying to shoo the townspeople away from her. She never should have shown them, she should have been more careful.
She thought that if Gloreth had accepted her, maybe everyone else would too.
“Stop! She’s my friend!”
“She’s a monster.”
The look on Gloreth’s face had been enough to break Nimona’s heart. Those beautiful blue eyes were full of fear as her parents ushered her away. Nimona feels like she’s choking, the coppery taste of her own blood filling her mouth and mixing with the taste of smoke as she tries to get away without hurting anyone. She was a gorilla, then a bear, then a wolf…
And then she was back to being a girl.
Blood coats her hands, ash coats her face and dusts her crimons hair as she stares at the burning village. When did that… how… Did she do that?
Salty tears roll down her cheeks, mixing with the blood and ash and dripping to the dirt below. Gloreth’s parents are calling for her, telling her to get away from that thing.
That thing.
Not even “her,” just “thing.” How long had these people known Nimona? How long had they seen her playing with Gloreth and just smiled and waved at them? They should know that if she wanted to hurt Gloreth – or any of them for that matter – she would have done it a long time ago.
All that trust was thrown out the window the moment Nimona shifted in front of them.
Even Gloreth. The one person she thought she could trust in the whole word was staring at her with so much fear that Nimona felt like those eyes were crushing her. She chokes and sputters as they stare each other down, and Nimona raises her bloodstained hands placatingly.
“Gloreth…” Gloreth backs away, the wooden sword they were playing with mere moments ago discarded at her feet. “Gloreth, I–” The sword is in her hands, Gloreth’s eyes filled with less fear and more determination. Backlit by the flames, ash dusting her golden locks, Nimona normally would have said she looked beautiful like this.
That feeling didn’t last long.
“Go back to the shadows from whence you came.” Her voice is shaky as she points the wooden sword at Nimona, but despite the unsteadiness, it was resolute. Gloreth thinks NImona is a monster.
(Maybe she is a monster.
She looks around at the flames as they lick at the houses and gardens she once played in. She looks around at the horrified villagers that she was once friends with. She watches as the one place she ever felt safe crumbles right in front of her. She watches as the girl she loves backs up in fear.
Their home was burning right in front of them, and it was all because of Nimona.)
Time seems to freeze as Nimona begins to cry harder, choking back sobs that threaten to tear their way out of her throat. She doesn’t have a right to cry when she was the cause of all this destruction.
Why did she have to be so stupid?
If she had used her head for two seconds, she wouldn’t have been in this situation. She could have roamed off as the bear and then come back in her girl form. Everything would have been fine then.
Nimona gets her bearings and turns on her heel, fleeing into the forest.