Victim

Barely in Time

It is almost dawn.

Wind tears through the forest, screaming victory through a million branches, ripping shingles from the cottage roof. It is not enough for someone to die. Villagers die all the time, and it does the monster little good. His victims must be killed at his hands or claws, here in the cottage, at the heart of the forest.

One with each new moon, before daylight.

The monster takes wing as a falcon, black and terrible. He cuts the air, racing the dawn. The wind would normally speed him along, but today it shoves him wildly, throwing him off course, slowing his progress.

Slowing, but not stopping. The agreement still stands, after all. The forest is bound to him, to terms solemnized a thousand violent times. It does occur to the monster, however, that the forest never used to grow poison berries. It occurs to him that he might not be the only one the forest has been whispering to.

He flies higher, out of reach of the gusting winds. He is too small in this form to bring back an adult, or even a child. But a baby. . . . There are always babies in the village.

He reaches the village square as the horizon turns red and the last stars pull from view. He becomes a bear before he's even properly touched down. He smashes through the door of a small home that smells like a baby still digesting mother's milk.

It's perfect. Thrilling, and new, and horrifying. And barely in time.

So much for the girl's cleverness. For her pretended innocence and sharpened stick. The monster's task is urgent now, but once he's killed the baby in the proper place, he'll return. Immediately snatch someone for the new month. Remind the forest of their vows. Remind the villager's he's not to be trifled with. Maybe he'll find a stick and put out some eyes while he's at it.

Except that the baby's cradle is empty. The house is empty.

Sunlight pours through the doorway. Pain blossoms with the dawn.

The monster stumbles to the next house. The next.

They are empty. All of them, empty.

Well, almost empty.

Every table holds a basket of poison berries.