Faebreaker

1: The Water Horse

Isla had decided long ago that a diet made strictly of animals would be as far as she went. But sometimes, certain humans repulsed her enough to catch her eye. Some men, no matter how awful they tasted, were truly worth devouring just to hear their screams from underwater.

She made her lair in a small lake heavily frequented by the wildlife: rabbits, deer, oxen, and more. So she couldn't say she didn't have any pickings and choosings when it came to what she ate. Now though, something disrupted the natural order of things. Neither the rabbits, deer, nor oxen came to drink when expected to. Surely she'd not tainted her waters already? She'd been at her current spot for but a week. It usually took months of rot to drive the wildlife away.

But then a commotion erupted nearby. Some screams, all too human, of a man and woman arguing with one another. Poking the head of her equine form out of the water, Isla listened to see what the fuss was all about, catching a glimpse of the two just a ways off from her abode as the sun cast a glistening sheen of light across the lake.

"Fuckin' 'im while I ain' looking, are ye?"

"Charles, we need to talk about this. Please!"

"Don't 'please' me ye dirty fuckin' whore. The hell else is our bed always a mess?"

"Charles..."

"Stow yer tongue before I cut it off ye."

The man shoved what appeared to be his wife toward the direction of Isla's lake. She stumbled, falling to her knees with a yelp as the man, without tolerance, kicked her ahead with his boot. She scrambled back up to her feet just to be kicked down again as though she were some sort of rabid dog. Dragging herself forward, she clung to an oak tree, grasping it tightly with both her arms as the man pulled her back by her dress, giving it a good tear as he threw her directly into a thorn bush.

The woman cried out, and the birds scattered above as Isla bared her teeth. Pitiless brute. Her stomach rumbled. Better to spare the life of a forest denizen than to let this man live another day.

Reaching the lake, the husband, dressed in a leather tunic, yanked his wife up by her hair and dragged her towards the rocky shore. The birds that remained chirped, oblivious to what was happening before them, and the wildlife that did want to drink circled the lake's perimeter in the safety of the trees, waiting for the human intruders to be gone.

"This is what ye get," the man, Charles, said. "Ye carin' to admit anythin'? For the time of retribution so that heaven may yet have ye?"

The woman's dress was in tatters, her breasts hanging out of it. Lifting her head, her face bore a look of pure rage, her lips twisting into a hateful scowl. She spat at Charles, who spun away immediately. What followed was a vicious smack to the lady's cheek, and Charles, spitting off to the side, brought his wife's head to the lake's waters.

I hate him. Isla wanted to leap out and devour the man on the spot. But no, if he had a weapon—one of the iron variety—he could put her down rather quickly with a lucky jab or two. A scabbard dangled at the man's side. Exercise caution.

Charles, pinning his wife down with the weight of his left knee, attempted to drown his beloved in Isla's lair. She tried to push herself out with both hands, gasping for breath as Charles dragged her deeper into the lake, just beyond the shoreline. Isla wouldn't be able to sneak on him without arousing suspicion, but she knew what to do. Men's hearts were weak and easily manipulated. If his was any different, she would be surprised. Now, how to go about this.

Ah, she knew what to do. A sort of trial. A bit of playful fun where the prize was a second chance to live.

Isla took her human form. She walked toward the shore until the water met her waist, small waves rippling around her.