Scareship_Issue8

The Bull and the Bear
The Great Bull made its way down the road, passing by the
southern tip of Lake Thannat. There he saw a shadow emerge from
the water. It was the lady, Isabelle, who somehow glistened on that
moonless night. She called to him. “Come to me, Bull. I have a gift
for you.” Bull heeded her command. “Kneel before me.” He did.
She reached into the water and scooped some mud from the lake
bed. She whispered some words over the dark wet earth in her
hands, and then rubbed the mud over the horns of the great beast.
“Any son of man gored by your horns shall die in slow, writhing
agony. Now go!”
The Bull was soon enough strolling through the heart of
Humble’s Wood. White men wisely avoided that trail, afeared as
they were of the Hums and the beasts residing there. But The Bull
knew no fear. He knew only the scent of blood, the stench of
which rose in his great snout. He uprooted a smallish tree along the
way, pulling off its branches and leaves, shaping it with his sharp
hooves, fashioning hisself a club. Ya see, since he was still part
man, the Bull felt nekkid without a weapon in his hands. And, so
armed, he stumbled loudly through the woods toward the town,
making no secret of his coming.
It was Inky that sensed it first. He awoke with a start. He heard
the call of drums, though whether they were coming from the
woods or from inside his own head, as a reminder of his late night
debauching, he was not certain. He looked in on Gilly, who was a
snoring like ole Epharim the she-bear. Inky let his brother sleep on.
“I’ll check on this myself. No need to involve Gilly just yet,” he
thought, as he crept out the rooms of Sunny’s bawdyhouse, where
the two had taken up permanent residence. He follered the drums
south, off the main street and towards the woods.
Now whether it was two men that fought in a dark forest on
that fateful night, or whether it was a man-bull and a were-bear, it
is hard to say and harder still to know. What is clear was the
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