Boy moved through the darkened forest, his paws gliding silently over the damp earth. The moonlight filtered through the canopy above, casting scattered silver beams onto the path ahead.
The quiet hum of insects filled the air and as he walked, his thoughts churned. The warmth of the villagers' gratitude still lingered in his mind along with the talk with Hazel, an unfamiliar sensation that he couldn't quite place.
He had spent his existence being used, discarded, and forgotten. This kind of acknowledgement, this sense of belonging- now coming from humans once he became a beast- felt foreign.
A part of him wanted to push it away, to reject it but another part of him hesitated.
Why was it so hard to walk away? Was it the way they had looked at him- not as a tool, not as a beast, but as something more?
But then he had heard words of gratitude before and it landed him in this state.
