Small Bites 1

Chimera

The legacy had been built on the blood of foundlings. On the pain and suffering of those who followed it. And yet, the ceremony continued every year.

They built a great pyre in the depths of the forest from the decaying bones of the trees. The soul-filled bones of men were tossed in, their smoke giving life to the flame.

Once the humans departed, scaly creatures in dark robes, monara, emerged from the forest to take the offering. A foundling child.

No man knew the fate of the foundlings. They disappeared into the forest with the monara, never seen again.

People whispered in the darkness. Dead? Eaten by the scaled ones? The death bringers. Rumors spread by drunken men, in hushed tones, crowded together in fire lit rooms. None dared venture into the forest to see what became of the foundlings.

Until one returned.

As new leaves began to grow, a stranger on a dark horse rode out of the forest. A dusty brown cloak covered his face in shadow.

Eyes watched from shuttered windows as the stranger rode down the lone dirt road. Not a curtain moved as he hitched the reigns and strode inside.

He pulled back the hood revealing a human face with shocking black hair, and scales running down the side of his face, wrapping around his neck and disappearing down into the collar. He had one blue eye, and one glittering gold eye with a thin black slit.

“A room,” the stranger said holding out a gold piece.

The barkeep stared at the stranger for a moment before nodding. With quivering fingers he took the gold coin, handing over a rusty key. The stranger turned and walked up the stairs, disappearing down the hall, without a backward glance.

Once out of eye sight the crowed began whispering in low tones. Growing as more people dared venture in. Who was he? What was he? Changeling? Monara? What happened to him? Where did he come from?

“He almost looks human,” someone said in a soft voice.

“That ain’t human. He has scales, and a golden eye.”

“But he has a human eye, too. Do you suppose the Monara did something to him?”

“Like what?”

“Like a half breed?”

“Now then,” the Father Peter said. “Don’t say such things. A monara-human cross? Even if that were possible, it wouldn’t be right. It would be… an abomination.”

“How do you figure that?” Grace asked.

He looked at the bar maid like she’d grown a second head. “God created us. Only god should change us. If he’s a cross breed…”

Finnegan looked back out the door. “I think he is. I think that’s exactly what he is. All the tributes they took, what do you think the monara did with them? Eat them? Maybe. But he doesn’t look eaten, and the monara aren’t that human looking.”

“But how?” someone asked.

Finnegan shook his head. “How would I know? In fact, I don’t want to know. I wouldn’t want to come out looking like that myself. Almost feel sorry for it.”

A few hours later when the stranger returned to the common room, more of the townsfolk had gathered. The air was thick with anticipation, all eyes on the staircase.

The stranger no longer wore the thick cloak. His scaled skin and golden eye were clearly visible.

He stood at the base of the stairs, waiting.