Golden Beast

“Monstre!” 

 

The chiming of bells started ringing out, a horn blaring a warning call. Golden light seeped through the glass windows, casting long dark shadows through the halls that had come to life with panic. 

His leather boots clacked against the stone floor, his coat flagging behind him with each hastened step. His long curly strawberry locks were pulled back, framed in a distinct V from his head and wrapped in a thin gold ribbon. His eyes were shaded from the gold light with a leather tricorn hat that he had fastened to his head. 

Vibrant hazel eyes remained focused despite the screaming, the running, the panic that happened around him. His heart raced with adrenaline and a tinge of fear stirred in his chest. Whatever it was, François had gotten the most terrible feeling from it and it made his jaw drop with a soft pant from his lips. From fear? Maybe from excitement. 

Gunfire rang outside of the walls, boots scuffed against stone and dirt, men shouted out orders and alarms, warnings of the monster. His heart thundered with each step.

 

“Monstre!” 

 

His top lip curved into a scowl at the claim in passing, his teeth gritting against each other as if the word reeked of foolishness. There were no monsters, only beast and man. This… this was just another beast. 

 

He marched through the arched stone doorway into the garden, ten foot stone walls surrounding the decorated opening of the home. There were rose bushes from corner to corner, recently mulched and all in full red bloom. They blanketed the air in their perfumes this time of summer. 

Centered in the garden was an elegant water feature with wolf heads from its sides that had their lips pulled back into snarls and spilled water from their jowls. It made François find the garden oddly uninviting- despite his love for the roses that resided in here.

 

The water bubbling into the pond was barely audible over men shouting and firing their weapons. The perfume of the roses nearly hid the smell of gunpowder, despite its potency this time of summer. 

 

The strawberry blonde stopped in his tracks, taking a deep breath and holding once he raised his oiled gun; a shiny Fusil Gras with floral engravings along its wooden stock. A weapon he had put a lot of carefully to, for a well cared for gun was one the man would trust well. 

 

He nearly pulled the trigger as he aimed it towards the golden blur of the fleeing beast. 

 

A glimpse of a tail, long and elegant- the same one he had seen in depictions of unicorns. He had barely had a chance to shoot its flanks, a chance he hadn't taken. 

 

There were no monsters, there was no such thing as fantastical beasts, but whatever it may be- it was something the likes that he has never seen before. 

 

“Monstre!” 

 

He lowered his gun, cursing under his breath as he watched where the beast had disappeared and then spun on his heel to run towards the stables. Monstre. A foul claim.

 

~ 

 

Horses shifted uneasily in their stalls, snorting and restless as men ran about to collect them and hurry to put their tack on. Steel clad hooves clattered against the dark gray stone of the stable floor, complimented by the sounds of the large oak panel doors being slid open. Horse hooves kicked up dust from straw and hay as they were rushed out of the spacious stalls. 

 

“Sir François! Ton cheval!” The young voice spoke over the chaos of the stables and the small blonde man pulled a stallion through the chaos. 

 

The orange blanket appaloosa had been the first one ready as the man hurried to get his tack on when the commotion had started. The horse snorted, seeming impatient as the man tightened the straps. His tail flagged, waving long curly black locks that moved like a curtain being blown by a soft breeze. 

 

“Merci mon ami.” François replied, taking the stallion's reins from the younger man as he stepped into the saddle and shifted to sit upright over the Appaloosa's antsy feet. 

 

“Pousser.” The man commanded with a squeeze of his thighs. 

 

The stallion scratched at the ground, arching his neck with a snort as his rider climbed in and then took off out of the stable with his rider steering. 

 

As easily as the animal had managed to get into the garden walls, it had quickly managed to figure out how to escape. François rode his spotted orange appaloosa to the outside of the wall, examining the tracks in the soft earth where it had made its escape. One of the men must have struck it with a bullet; evidence being a string of blood dripping from the wall and splattered across the ground, clinging onto clumps of grass and seeping into the dirt. 

 

The tracks, much like everything else he had seen of the beast, were nothing he'd ever seen before. They almost looked like wolf tracks, but the paw was longer and wider than his hand and far too square for a wolf. 

 

‘Monstre, doré, c'est aussi gros qu'une vache.’ The claims rang through François mind. 

 

He couldn't begin to imagine such an animal, but on sight of the giant prints left behind- François could believe one of the descriptions that had been given of the beast. It had to have been, in fact, as large as a cow- maybe larger. With the weight pressed into the dirt,  François could estimate the animal had to be around 180kg.

 

~

Overgrown shrubs and grass were going to make things difficult to navigate, as well as the soft dirt under them that told them it must have briefly rained here. Had the fog not been so thick, the beast may have been easier to track. 

 

Marseille snorted, panting anxiously as he slowed from the slight pulling of the reins. The heat of the summer evening still hung in the air. The humidity was so thick that the Frenchman could see twirls of steam form from each of the horse's breaths and the stallion's orange coat was sleek and shiny with sweat as he patted his neck on his dismount.

 

He crooned to Marseille softly before kneeling down near some tracks he had managed to see through the fog. They matched, large, boxy and weighted. If another thing had been right about the beast, gold may be easier to see in an ocean of flourishing dark greens. 

 

“Mon dieu..” He muttered, laying his hand next to the track before he followed the rest of them with his eyes as he fixed his tricorn hat on his head. The print was the same length of his hand, and about twice as wide. A few faint scratches at the dirt indicated toward large claws. The shape of the pads, François must have been getting ahead of himself as he found himself comparing them to a cat's. 

 

The stallion snorted, extending his nose to sniff at and nudge his handler's side. The strawberry blonde shifted uneasily as he stood up, petting the horse's snout before climbing back into his saddle and squeezing his sides to start towards the, now daunting, woods. 

 

The sun was getting low, the beast would be nearly impossible to track at night… 

 

François needed to move fast. 

~ 

 

A thick fog laid over the forest floor that was nearly impossible to see through. Hooves thundered through the muddy ground, tearing at the muddy earth they traversed on in an attempt to catch up with the golden silhouette he had been chasing after. The sounds of the beast were daunting, demanding respect in their echoes and was deep enough to make François’ gut churn. 

 

Sweat dripped from his brow, heavy panting coming from his lips as sharp hazel eyes scanned the forest. It was still dark, but it would be daylight soon and the man was nearly relieved by it. There was something daunting but yet thrilling, to have started tracking the monster only to start feeling as though he were the one to be hunted well into the darkest hours of the night.

 

François’ heart pounded so loud, his breath was so heavy, he almost couldn't hear past it. 

 

His horse breathed heavily under him, snorting through his nose with his head lowered from exhaustion and his knees starting to get shaky. Mud clung to his body, caked in his thick orange coat and blotting over his three white socks and the spotted blanket on his flanks. He was almost unrecognizable with the mud, having been on the hunt for what felt like most of the night. 

 

“Calme-toi.” The man panted, fixing his leather tricorn hat on his head as he tried to see the tracks through the fog in the mud. 

 

He took in a sharp breath and snapped his head up, hearing a rattling growl and rustling in the trees. The beast under him rumbled audibly with fear, having to lift his shaky feet higher in the mud to sidestep from the sound. 

 

“Marseille.” The younger man coaxed, barely keeping the stallion under control as he attempted to start fleeing. He sat up in the saddle, breathing heavily as he steadied his arm with his muddied bolt action rifle. His eyes turned to the earth, searching for tracks through the fog and in the wet earth. He didn't want to have to use the gun. Yet, anyways.

 

His eyes snapped up and his focus returned to the stallion and their surroundings. Golden eyes pierced through him, making the hunter freeze with fear. Cold ran over him, a rush to his senses that heightened with the concept of being the prey himself.  

 

Even in the darkness, François could make out the golden color of its short coat and a wide neck that supported a box shaped head. The unicorn tail wagged behind it with its tuft of darker fur at the end, flicking as if a fisher using bait on a hook as slit pupils in a sea of gold locked eyes with the man. 

 

The beast opened its lips, something akin to a purr or a growl as it lowered its body closer to the ground. 

 

What had the hunter now been diminished too by a beast?

 

A rush of cold ran through his body. He understood that he was not the only hunter here. Infatuated, perpetualized by it, wanting to know more despite the aching fear that made his bones tremble. 

 

Before he could focus on any further details, his horse let out a panicked scream before he started taking off. Much like François, Marseille had never seen anything like it, and unlike his handler, didn't want to stick around and find out what it was. 

 

He glanced back as he clung to his stallion, doing his best to stay on top of the horse and keep his head low from any branches. Glancing back, he saw the golden animal jump from where he was, only to stand there watching him as he had started his retreat. 

 

The closest thing François had seen that he could compare was a bear he had seen south of Toulouse, but bears weren't golden, nor did they have long tails. 

 

“Pousser.” The man commanded, his head swiveling as he squeezed the stallion's sides to keep moving- now both of them running in fear. 

 

~ 

 

“François!” His name was spoken in a feminine cry, relief and fear ringing out of range of her usual soft spoken voice. 

She was of nobility, and dressed as such as she stood in the stable, waiting for the man to return and felt relief as she had laid eyes on him and his horse. Her boots tapping lightly was overtaken by the sound of steel horseshoes cracking across the stone floor as François rode Marseille into the stable. 

 

Marseille snorted, breathing heavily as they sauntered their way into the stable with shaking limbs. The strawberry blonde slid himself off the saddle, his own knees nearly buckling under him from the long ride but he forced his weary limbs to keep himself on his feet. He took the reins to lead Marseille deeper into the stable, looking up at the woman who had cried his name. He recognized her well, the lady of the home.

 

Her pink cheeks and green eyes were surrounded by greying dark brown locks that fell down and curled into ringlets at the end, her eyes were tinted red from tears of worry and her lip quivered slightly as she spoke. The silver green dress rocked with her hips as she moved, decorated with white lace over the fabric of her bust and golden embroidery around the edges. It was his favored so far, particular to the color choices she had made. 

 

“Claire de Beauvau.” He said with a soft pant still in his breath as he pulled a halter from his saddlebag and tethered the Monsieur to a hook. 

 

“Was Claude not with you?” She inquired with a shaky worried voice, sounding like a frightened mouse. 

“No, I haven't seen him since last morning.” François answered her as he set aside his saddle and pulled the reins off of Marseille, who smacked his mouth at the removal of the bit. 

 

He hooked the bridle up and then turned back to the stallion's side to start loosening the saddle with haste despite the slight tremble of his cold hands. The horse let out a heavy sigh of relief at its removal from his wet coat, letting himself relax with a crooked lean and his head held low. 

 

“He must still be out there.” She claimed, grabbing at François arm as he started to scratch at the stallion's nose. 

 

“I don't think he would have left at all.” He paused to look at her, taking her hand and raising it to gently kiss- his breath hot from the ride before dismissing her hand. “I must tend to my horse Mademoiselle Claudia.” He insisted as stepped aside to grab his tools. “Claude is not a hunter, he does not get thrill from chase.” 

 

“But Claude isn't here, I know it. François, I fear the monster has already found him!” Tears started to swell once more in her swollen green eyes, it was a sight François hated to see. 

 

“A fleeing beast has no interest in a quick meal. Claude is a grown man, I'm sure you have nothing to be worried about.” François argued, frustration rising as he started to comb the partially dried mud from the spotted white and orange coat. 

“Did you see it? The monster?” 

“Mademoiselle Claudia there are no monsters. It is simply an animal.” François scolded, his lip scowling momentarily he paused and let out a sigh. He turned his eyes to her, studying momentarily, her full cheeks, pouted lips and worried bloodshot eyes. 

“It is a monster if it has eaten sweet Claude!” She claimed, her fists balling in anger.

“I'll look.” François promised with a sigh, “but Marseille needs to rest. We have been chasing the beast for hours.” 

“Did you see it?” Claudia sternly repeated. 

“Briefly.” 

“What was it?” 

“I have never laid eyes on anything like it.” François answered. 

“A golden animal?”

“It… was indeed.” François reluctantly admitted. 

 

François rubbed the stallion's nose, getting a tired and weary sigh in return to the gesture before he was led into his stall. The horse flicked his tail and snorted, relieved for the break he had earned.

 

“I will look.” François told her. “Was anyone injured?” 

“No.” She sniffled. 

“Then you shouldn't worry yourself so much Claudia. Animals don’t attack as men do. It has nothing to gain by killing Claude.” 

“What a foul thing to say Monsieur Des Forêts!” She scolded. 

“What a foul world we live in.” François replied as he shut the stall and turned to face her. “I will let Marseille rest, I will investigate the garden and see if I can find him.” He promised. 

 

~

 

François found himself restless, unable to settle his nerves as he drew the beast he had seen. A girthy neck, a box shaped head, this wide nose was placed over dark jowls. Its body had curved like a cat, ready to pounce a bird before it fluttered away. Its tail moved like a viper that had been ready to strike. 

 

Frustrated, he stepped into the empty garden, the calm bubbling of the water and the sweet fragrance of the roses easing his nerves as he scanned the area in the early morning light. It was almost as if nothing had happened the evening prior. Almost… 

 

A small dirt trail had been made from the garden bushes, disturbed from running men but a trail regardless. He stepped towards it and knelt in front of them, his eyes following it to the garden bed of roses. 

 

In the thick bushes, François found dirt that had been upturned from something resting in the bed- where the beast must have been before it had been seen but the earth looked disturbed as if it were a regular resting ground.  An animal so large and so bright in color… it shouldn't have been missed had it been residing in the garden. 

 

Gold tufts of fur still clung to some of the thorns, and François carefully removed it with a gloved hand. He removed the yellow silk from his neck and wrapped it neatly before sliding it into his pocket. 

 

He followed the trail back out from where he knelt, leading towards the door into the home. Strange for an animal to run towards human structure rather than fleeing to where it belonged. If it belonged. 

 

Standing at the end of the dirt trail, François placed a hand on his waist and started to rub his thumb against his bottom lip in thought, eyes searching the rest of the area as water trickled softly to his left. 

 

Blood stains, small drops trickled and widely spread apart, following where François had followed after the beast earlier. He didn't recall seeing any blood trails prior, but the night was dark and foggy. It was likely he may have missed it. Following them, he didn't get far before he found a dead end. Hooves had turned up too much from men chasing after the beast before giving up and coming back. 

 

From where he knelt at the edge of the garden, his eyes strayed up to the hill the home overlooked and into the tree line in the distance. He didn't see it, his eyes searched desperately for it in the trees to no avail, but François knew that the beast was staring at him from those woods as he pondered and investigated. A wave of cold went over him, a rush of excitement flowed through him. 

 

He was being hunted. 

 

He grew cold in an instant, even in the heat of the summer, the humidity in the air, he still shivered. It felt as though a storm was about to begin.

 

~ 

 

“It is well.” François offered a soothing voice to the stallion as he led him out of the stall, scratching calloused fingertips across the beast's nose. 

 

Marseille's ears swiveled with uncertainty, nickering nervously as he kept his head raised in alert as he was pulled out. The stallion was in agreement that there was a monster in the woods and was less than determined to go back out with it. 

 

François took a moment with him, retrieving an apple from his waist pocket from his coat and took a bite of it. The pink and brown nose shifted forward, his dark rimmed ears now pointed forward to the apple that François had so rudely taken a bite of. 

 

“Give me a moment Marseille.” François chuckled, dodging the apple from the stallion's nose for a moment before taking another bite and letting him take the rest. 

 

The strawberry blonde started scratching at Marseille's neck as they both chewed. The spotted horse with complementary greens, oranges and yellow freckles snorted softly, chewing and nodding his head.  

 

“We're going to catch this monstre, Monsieur Marseille.” François told him. “I will have a golden animal to add to my collection.”

 

If he could be certain of anything, he could be assured that the beast did not belong in France. It was too large, with features unsuited for any prey it may have here and it must have been too comfortable with people to regularly rest in the rose bushes so close to the home. As far as he knew, the beast hadn't had a taste for human flesh. Yet. 

 

He could only imagine that something with such a large boxy head and large square paws could easily take a man's life and with Claude still missing, François was starting to fear that his mother may have been right. 

 

The man turned and stepped aside, grabbing his tools to set on a barrel before taking the brush and dusting it against his hand. The orange stallion was still smacking his lips as his nose followed the man when he turned his back on him and watched him with his kind brown eyes. 

 

“What do you think Monsieur?” François asked, babying his voice with a soft chuckle as he started brushing along Marseille's neck. “You were not designed to be a hunter. You would have been better suited as a poodle.” 

 

The stallion snorted, shaking his lowered head and shifting his weight on his feet as François brushed out his thick coat. 

 

“I won't keep you out past dark this time. I hope you can forgive me.” He chuckled out, setting the brush aside once he had combed through his fur. The man claimed the side of the horse's face, turning the stallion's head so he could peck his cheek and then pulled the bridle over his snout. He adjusted the bit in his mouth before tightening it, rubbing at the horse's chin playfully after. 

 

François placed the blanket over his back and then hoisted the saddle after it, reaching under him to grab the other strap to hook it and then started tightening. 

 

“Bon.” He coaxed, patting the horse's shoulder before climbing into the saddle. He adjusted himself as he hooked his boots into the stirrups and squeezed his sides as he collected the reins. 

 

François rode him out and started following the same path he had the prior day, tracing after the trail that had been left behind and was hard to spot with being a day old. Marseille snorted, his ears swiveling as he grew more alert as he recognized the familiar path towards the tree line. 

 

He let out a nicker of disapproval at their arrival through the trees and started walking with his bred gait where François drove him. 

 

~

 

The hour was starting to get late and François had found very little, a few more old trails from the day before but nothing fresh. He slowed Marseille down to a stop once they found a clearing in the forest, rubbing his bottom lip as he searched around them for anything. A branch out of place, a track, anything. Nothing but bugs chirping and birds fluttering through the trees. It was so peaceful… and that left the hunter with an eerie feeling in his gut. 

 

A squeal of pain ripped through the air like a knife through silk, startling Marseille and making François’ head swivel in the direction it had come from as he squeezed Marseille's sides. 

 

The Monsieur voiced his opinion on it, huffing and grunting with displeasure at the direction he was being led to and as they came to the scene, his knees buckled and shook with fear. 

 

It took masterful handling from François to keep the animal from bolting as he saw the fleeing hindquarters of a golden animal from the injured fox kit on the ground. The hunter wished he had seen more of it despite how grateful he was that it ran in fear of him. 

 

He pulled a small MAS 1873 revolver from his waist, holding it ready to be aimed in one hand in case the golden animal had second thoughts, his eyes focusing on where it had run and ears tuning in to how far he could hear it go in the soft earth. 

 

His lip scowled, brushing his fingers in a scratching motion across Marseille's withers to soothe him. 

 

“It is fine.” François calmly spoke as he dismounted, his eyes still alert of his surroundings as he knelt next to the small animal. Skin and flesh had been torn so easily by the beast, 

 

The hunter pressed his hand to the animal's cheek, brushing thin fur with his thumb as he readied the gun in his hand. He felt cold wash over him again, a shiver claimed his body as he muttered a short prayer. 

 

~

 

It was starting to get dark, and still there was no sign of Claude. Or really, any man, out in these woods. It was to be expected, word of the monster had spread quickly. A head and neck wide enough to eat a grown man whole. François was glad for it, a wild cat that size could easily kill a man if it wanted and the hunter would much rather follow tracks than entrails. 

 

François took the fabric from around his neck and wound it around the stallion's head so he couldn't see. Marseille had quickly started to settle, his head lowering as his breathing evened from the relief. The man patted his withers softly, scratching at his neck momentarily before he pulled a halter from a hook to slip over his head. He pulled the bridle and bit, massaging the horse's chin as he smacked his jaws. 

 

“Bon.” François cooed softly as he took off the saddle and stored it, then pulled the now calmed Marseille into his stall. 

Another night with no Claude and the family worried endlessly. Dinner had been quiet, melancholy hanging in the air as everyone started to fear the worst. Claude was no hunter… 

 

François still had hopes, having been in the woods for the last two days and not having found Claude, or his body. He had seen the animal now, he had even drawn the beast but hadn't dared show it to his poor mother in fear of worrying her more. 

 

~ 

 

The next morning François had gone to the stable to retrieve Marseille, a thick morning fog flooding in a way that looked like water trying to seep into the windowsills, the sun hadn't come up yet but the hunter was too restless to sleep any longer. 

 

Marseille snorted his disapproval as he was led out, but the beast must have been as restless as him if he were already awake at this hour. 

 

“I know Monsieur.” François sighed out as he treated him with a sugar cube and began brushing. “Today we will find Claude, we will discover a new animal, and we get to go home with our pride.” He told him. 

The horse rumbled quietly in response, his head relaxed low as he ears flicked and swiveled at the man's comforting voice. 

 

Brushed, tacked and now mounted, Marseille carried the hunter out of the stables and through the garden once more. The fog had started to clear up and a blanket of light was starting to replace it. 

 

The stallion let out a huff of distaste as they, once more, walked the same path towards the woods to look for the monster that lurked in them. 

 

From what François observed, the animal was lingering. The tracks never went too far in the woods, always staying within four miles of the lavish home nearby. Evidence of its meals found within two miles, and further evidence of its frequent naps nearby them. Still, no human remains. The beast was eating, and fortunately not on the young Claude from what he had found so far. 

 

Marseille snorted uneasily as he was guided to stop, his feet jittery as François dismounted and went to a tree- so wide that if the hunter had tried to hug it, he wouldn't be halfway to wrapping his arms around it. In the hard wood were long scars scratched through its bark, picked off and slashed into easily by raptor-like talons. It made François think about how bears would mark trees to claim their territory.

 

The hunter dismounted, patting Marseille's muscular neck as the stallion let out an uneasy nicker. 

 

“It is well.” He coaxed softly as he stepped around him to look at the scratches on the tree, confirming they came from the beast rather than a bear. Even if there had been a bear in the area, François wasn't sure for how long. 

Birds fluttered away in panic nearby, making the already uneasy Marseille sidestep and snort anxiously with swiveling ears. He lifted his nose, nostrils flaring for a scent as he looked around with wide eyes. 

 

As François lifted his eyes, he felt a wave of cold run a course through his body and a tremble following suit as he found his eyes locked onto another pair. A deep sea of golden, pupils round and wide as it stared back at him, crouched and frozen. 

 

The hunter could smell the hot breath, reeking of the sweet smell of blood and colliding with the foul smell of decay, even from 5 meters between them the pungent smell filled his nose. 

 

Marseille let out a deep rumble, kicking up his feet in panic before he took off running. The thundering of hooves tore at the ground behind François got quieter with distance, and the man was silently grateful for it. 

 

A staggered breath left François' lips, a shaking hand reaching for his waist and his calloused fingers wrapping around the wooden grip. His throat was suddenly dry, making it painful to swallow as he tried to collect his courage. 

 

A deep rumble came from the animal’s chest but still, the beast didn't lunge nor did it bare its teeth or expose the claws François was most certain the animal had. It didn't need to, the man was frightened enough without seeing the animal in full display. 

 

A pained roar by man sliced through the forest air, followed by the sound of 6 bullets unloading from the revolver and then silence blanketed the forest floor. 

 

~

 

François gasped for breath, the weight of the animal on top of him suffocating with its arms wrapped around him. He found that its thick neck was in fact just thick coarse fur, 

 

 A wave of cold went through his limbs, shuddering despite his attempts to relieve his nerves. He felt heat across his back when he shifted, pushing part of the weight of the golden dead animal off of himself before he lifted himself from the grasp of claws he had been marked by. His jaw tightened, his head tilting back with gritted pain as he pulled the rest of his body from under the weight of the animal and a roar of pain released into the forest when he pulled his legs from under the beast.

 

A high pitched groan of pain forced its way from his lips as he rolled himself to his stomach, his vision blurred and his senses dulled by the pulsating pain that claimed his body. Heat flooded his body, blood seeped from his scalp, trickled from his chin down his sweaty neck. Sweet metallic smell and taste blinded his senses. His eyes forced themselves closed, his mind foggy as his chest felt like a fire flared with each breath and heat soaked his back. 

 

Still, he would be lucky if he made it with his life. He had been punished for his foolish mistake. 

 

He made his attempt to start crawling. 

 

His hand reached out and wrapped around a small muddy warm tree. His eyes opened and followed up when he heard a snort and felt a wave of relief when he laid eyes on a familiar white stripe and dark rimmed ears. 

 

The horse lowered himself to his stomach next to the man, giving François the much needed advantage to climb onto his back. He could barely hold himself up, holding onto the saddle as the Monsieur started to lead the way. 

 

Marseille must have known, carefully trending with sure feet towards home. Without François regular ramblings with him, the stallion filled the quiet air with snorts and huffs of worry for the man that clung to him- as if trying to speak to him.The hunter was grateful for it, rumbling with a soft voice in response to each nicker he could. His throat was so dry it hurt to swallow and despite the heat of the pain that flared in his body, he grew cold when the blurred image of the small castle bestowed his eyes. 

 

~

 

François stared down, the large cat sprawled at his feet. He spotted the lucky shot he had made that had ended the animal's life, that had saved his own. All six shots scattered, and one had been lucky enough to strike the beast in the eye moments before his head had been in its mouth. 

 

He wished he could have seen the animal more when it had been alive. The gold coat wasn't as vibrant, or the thick dark mane that had been orange in the sun but now nearly looked black. Long coarse whiskers spread from its boxy cheeks, its rectangular feline body with slender hips and that long tail with the dark tuft at the end. 

 

A lion. François had only heard about them in stories, seen pen drawings of inaccurate depictions- for the drawings compared little to the magnificence of the beast laid before him. 

 

What was he to say…? He may have felled a beast, but the man had failed to find Claude.