Rays of fading light danced along the snow, each crystal its own sun, glistening as if they would never fade. Shimmering their defiance before day gave way to night and their light was snuff out. He breathed it in, taking the moment with every sense he could.

This will be the last sunset I see…

The horse snorted behind him, but he’d smelled them long before they arrived.

Sweat… Tobacco… Gunpowder… Wolfsbane…

Each scent flowed into him and he knew from where each came without turning. The Beast smelled them as well. Hunters come to put him down. Five, no six. Six soldiers sent to fix a problem that wouldn’t allow itself to be controlled. To kill the monster terrorizing the countryside. The nightmare he was, the abomination they’d created.

Let that happy round come.

Better to die in this moment, this time with his mind still intact before the Beast reclaimed its place. Already it scratched at the back of his consciousness, sensing the danger, not knowing how real it was. He’d suppressed it for now, but it wouldn’t last long. It didn’t know what was about to happen and he wouldn’t let it if he could. The Beast within, the evil placed there by those cold eyed men so long ago. It would fight to live. It would kill and maim with glee until it glutted itself on its conquests.

The wind picked up and he breathed deeply.

He knew this place. From a time before they took him. Good memories. A mother’s song, a father’s weighing eyes. He couldn’t remember their names, but knew them all the same. Bits and fragments appeared and vanished before he could hold them; Running across this very field, winter a distant memory as sunflowers towered above. Prodding the plow horse as the sun beat down on his head, father placing a wicker hat to shade him from the worst. The lone standing stone where he’d climb to watch the sun sink below the horizon...

Mother screaming as soldiers burst into their home. Father down from a rifle end. The dinner table overturned as calloused hands bruise him in vice like grips. Calling for mother as they dragged him away.

The Beast inside stirred as a voice called out behind him, ripping the memories away.

“Oi you foul bloody freak. Turn and face judgement.”

Shoot me, he willed, determined not to turn. The Beast was fully aware. His hands trembled as he struggled for control.

End me.

“I said turn!”

The sunset was almost gone. Snow heavy clouds swept in to harry the light away. He focused on the last few rays, desperate to cling to them as the Beast frayed at his sanity. It fought for life as he prayed for death.

Hooved steps came closer.

Shoot…

They picked up to a trot.

The Beast raged against the frail bindings with which he held it in place.

God in heaven please just shoot me now. Kill me. End me as a man. The gallop was nearly on top of him as clouds finally covered what little sun remained.

The Beast broke free.

Hunger and rage filled him.

Blood and death followed.

The horse screamed, his claws raking its belly as he ducked beneath a clumsy blow from a silvered blade. Man was no concern.

A scream and another silvered blade. The next man came forward, but the Beast severed his leg and moved on.

Pain in his side followed by smoke and a burst of sound.

Enemy.

Smoking rifles leveled at him. He charged and another fell. A burst of sound, more smoke. Snow and dirt jumped around him. Another nearby. His flesh parting beneath teeth and claw. Blood flowed down the Beast's throat. Sweet, blissful life. Warm intoxicating death.

Two more by the house.

It was my house…

The Weakness within sought to overcome.

No.

It couldn’t.

Rend, kill, feast.

He charged. Nearing one, stinking of fear, it raised its weapon.

Fresh pain, thunderous blast, impacting soft flesh. He had no sight from one eye. Blood on the snow, falling like rain. Pain. So much pain. He needed to run. To heal, to live.

It couldn’t until the men were dead. 

One left that stunk of Wolfsbane. Kill the man and live. The Beast was nearly upon him when the man threw his pouch.

Fire without flame covered his body, boring into flesh, his head, his missing eye. It sank in through bone and flesh and sinew. He thrashed about, rolling in snow to put out the flame that wasn’t.

Too much.

No time to hold the Weakness at bay. Let it suffer in his place.

Wresting control once more, he screamed.

The pain was more than he’d ever endured. More than he knew what to do with. So he thrashed about until it faded enough to stand.

Looking up he saw a soldier. The only one left, his rifle leveled at his head.

Stop me, he wanted to scream. Stop this nightmare life.

Dark memories flooded back. Those cold eyed men, uttering words that never should be spoken. Chanting while he wept, a child in pool of blood. Screaming for mother, for father, God and the Saints. Crying out until his voice was the only thing in the world. His cries turned to howls as he realized he was no longer alone in his own mind.

The Beast was on its way back. 

Already he crouched, ready to pounce if the man didn’t pull the trigger in time.

The drive to kill, to maim and rend, overpowering what little mind he’d gained.

Stop me…

“Sch…. Schtop…” his voice rasped, the Beast cutting him off before he could finish.

A tiny ray of light broke through the clouds and, for the briefest moment, the both man and Beast stared at the frail sunset.

A shot rang out and the clouds covered what small light remained.