Brother of the Beast

Prolouge

Thrashing and kicking, it roared in anguish; it ripped open its flesh with its sharp claws.  Its mouth gaped open as it wailed with rage, its crimson eyes bleeding blood as black as night. Ropes and dragged it down to its knees, spears and knives stabbing through its limbs. Hunters surrounded the beast, pulling with all their might to drag the beast down and slaughter it.
The beast writhed in pain as blood spewed from its mouth, coarse furs almost falling off of its limbs from the ropes pressure.
One hunter hesitated, he held the sharpest spear in his small, calloused hands, glancing, sympathetically, at the raging beast before him.
The beast threw its head back it agony, bellowing a roar that could be felt in any man's bones.
The hunter trembled at the sound of such a roar, his hands clenching around the spear. The others glared back at him, anxious to rid themselves of such a hassle.
"Do it!" One of them screamed over the sound of the beast, "Kill it!"
The hunter took a few steps back, wincing at the sound of the beast's anguish, then stammered, "I-I... I can't."
The hunter's glares grew furious as the beast writhed in the ropes constrictions.
"What?!"
Grasping the spear tightly in his palms, the hunter wailed, "I can't!"
He spun on his heel and raced away, deeper into the forest, tears erupting from his eyes.
The hunters caterwauled in anger, loosening their grip—which was their biggest mistake— and the beast ripped away from the ropes, roaring with rage.
It unsheathes its claws, baring its sharp fangs, and slaughtered the hunters, one by one.
The beast glared around at the murdered hunters, a deep scowl on its face, and stormed down the hunters path, its scars re-healing, its form shrinking.
The moonlight began to shine through the forest leaves, reflecting the light from the hunter's spear. The hunter held his head down, tears still trickling down his cheeks. He turned on his feet and glanced behind him, seeing if he was followed, and heard shuffling behind him.
He shivered, "I won't kill it! I don't care what you say!"
No one responded. Only a hand poked from out the bushes. Then another. And then a head.
It didn't look like any of the hunters, no. It's head was covered with an unruly mop of dirty, matted hair. Its face was splattered with dirt and blood, and its hands were muddied with soil and mud.
They crawled farther out into the open, looking the hunter in the eyes, which were crimson with veins as dark as the soil below.
They got closer, until they were almost face to face with the hunter. It looked unnaturally human, and yet it was unnaturally beastic.
The hunter dropped the spear to his side and kneeled down, staring face to face with the unnatural boy. The hunter sat his fist to his chest and thumped it, speaking the silent language of the forest. The boy understood and bowed his head, showed the scared that bruised his body. Astonished, the hunter opened his mouth as the boy's eyes gleamed in the light of the night.
"Are you the beast?"