Try as I might, I could find no peace. My whole life seemed turned on its head after talking with the strange man.

I tore off another chunk of mutton for Damica, the little, red vixen that had taken a liking to me. I knew she was at least five years old, which made her older than most others of her kind. She happily accepted it, licking at it a bit before chewing into the meat. She was a sweet, tiny thing. And brave, to have no fear of me.

I kept thinking on the bizarre man that had come to give the tokens just a few days past. I had encountered a few humans that were curious, but never one that had been so open, so seemingly intent on nothing but conversation.

On the other hand, none of them had ever successfully taken my head, either. Perhaps this was a human trick. Admittedly, if so, it was a clever one, as I was undeniably intrigued.

I wondered if the man had access to books. Though I had, long ago, taught myself the newfangled tongue that the villagers used, I had originally learned my mother’s ancient dialect. The books my mother had left me were in such a delicate state as to be virtually unreadable. Did the language the humans spoke come with letters as well? Would this man, if I let him see me, bring me books?

I felt them get agitated as they worried for me, and I absently moved a cold hand to pet a few of the most irritable of the pit vipers. They always had such an ill temper! I willed them to calm, grateful that the colubrids had a more even outlook. Perhaps they, too, were hopeful about being able to read again?

Though I had tried many times, with previous creatures of the forest, I could teach none of them any more than the most basic parts of language. The bears had always done the best, but they had moved on from these parts long ago, and my ursine friends had passed away even longer since. Now that I thought on it, I hadn’t seen any bears at all for the better part of a century. What a shame!

The bald truth of it was that I was lonely. I hadn’t seen my mother in centuries, and I’d had a pittance of conversation since then.

It was undeniably dangerous, but I found myself hoping that the stupid, brave, human man came to visit some time again. I resolved to be extra careful when I heard unanticipated noises around my cave, lest he come looking for me at home. It would be a pity, should I kill him unintentionally. Besides, the stone dead were heavy to transport out of my way.

Notes

Damica = 'open spirited, friendly' (French)

Bonus fact- bears were hunted into extinction during the Middle Ages in England.

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For any of you that read my works, I would love to be nominated for the fanfiction awards. I know the odds of me winning anything are very small, but I can still hold out hope. All you have to do is go HERE and name the story and author.

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I appreciate anyone who supports me. It means a lot, I’ve been having some tough times recently and writing is a great way to be creative and keep my mind off of things. It’s rather difficult to get any sort of positive reinforcement with fanfic writing as a hobby. Nominations end on January 29th, 2017.