by Ross Turner
It had a thick hide covered entirely in shaggy, black fur, save its face and hands and feet. They were bare of fur, though its black skin looked rugged and tough and unnervingly human.
Its face looked astonishingly human too, though it was more square. It’s eyes however, as full of words and emotion as they might have been, were black as the night itself.
As Marcii stared on, unsure of what to say or do, the creature gazed back at her with an expression completely unreadable. It was as if it was trying to make its mind up on her, just as she was doing in return.
Finally, after what seemed to be a very lengthy silence, the creature leaned forward and rested its enormous knuckles on the hard, rocky floor of the cave.
Shifting its weight and lifting its legs, it rose surprisingly gracefully onto all fours, like a great ape, and crossed the dozen feet or so to where Marcii stood. She remained glued to the spot, unable to move.
There was a fire over to one side of where the creature had sat, which was where the flickering light had originated from, Marcii realised.
But, as it drew closer, even still she felt the unbelievable heat from its body, and she knew in an instant that the cave was not warm because of the fire, but because of the creature itself. The fire was simply there to provide light.
It stopped but a few feet short of her and gazed down curiously at its little guest, reading her eyes with its own deep, coal pupils.
Sliding its back legs forward, the creature lowered itself to sit again, propping itself up slightly with its arms.
Confused by its strange behaviour, Marcii at last plucked up the courage to speak, though she wasn’t sure if it would understand her.
“What are you?” She asked, though her voice peaked slightly with her uncertainty.
The creature did not reply and instead it just continued to look down upon her curiously, as if all was normal.
Marcii sighed.
She shouldn’t have thought it would be able to understand her.
But then the creature’s expression changed, seeing her self-frustration. It frowned in a very human way and thought on Marcii’s words.
That took Marcii aback slightly and she went to speak again.
But before she had a chance to the creature lifted its vast arms into the air, silencing her with its fluid movement. It wove some kind of gesture with its huge, hairless hands, its skin so thick that it looked like rough leather.
It indicated towards itself first and then traced some kind of pattern in the air that Marcii did not know.
As soon as it had finished it looked on expectantly at her, but she returned its hopeful expression blankly.
It frowned again and scratched the side of its face in a way that made it seem so unbelievably human that Marcii’s stomach actually knotted.
Then it tried again, gesturing once more to itself and weaving another pattern in mid-air, this one slightly different to the last.
All of a sudden something clicked into place and Marcii drew a sharp, shocked breath. Her eyes widened and the knot in her stomach tightened endlessly.
“Reaper…?” She breathed, barely able to get the sound off her tongue.
The creature suddenly beamed, revealing rows of razor sharp, pristine white teeth and its black eyes lit up in exultation, if that were even possible.
It nodded eagerly and traced the same pattern in the air once more, indicating to itself repeatedly.
“I…” Marcii stumbled. “I can’t beli…” She attempted.
The creature nodded and smiled.
“Malorie’s Reaper…?” Marcii finally managed, unable to believe quite what she was hearing, or perhaps more accurately, seeing.
Reaper nodded again and smiled enthusiastically, showing once again his flawless, white teeth from between his rough, black lips.
He drew yet another pattern in the air before Marcii and once again she didn’t recognise it. Nonetheless, though she had no idea how, she understood exactly what he was saying to her.
The outline his hands drew depicted that he was indeed Malorie’s closest friend. And, also that he somehow knew who she was too: the young, exiled Marcii Dougherty.
Marcii swallowed nervously, afraid of what her next breath might bring. But it didn’t matter the consequences. She couldn’t leave him in the dark on such a thing.
“Reaper…” The young Dougherty started, though her words wavered noticeably. Reaper noticed her hesitation quite clearly.
He looked on at Marcii and raised his rough, leathery eyebrows slightly, awaiting her words eagerly.
He had been alone for so long.
She was the first person he had ever spoken to besides Malorie, and it felt like a lifetime since he’d last seen her.
“I’m so sorry Reaper…” Marcii whispered. “Malorie’s dead…”
Chapter Five
Reaper closed his black eyes and exhaled deeply. His chest seemed to fall endlessly as he did so, caving in with deep thought and despair. He didn’t look back at Marcii for quite some time.
When he eventually did, though the droplets were well hidden amidst the thick, leathery lines of his rough, black face, Marcii saw quite clearly the tears trickling from Reaper’s eyes.
It was not the response Marcii had been expecting, but before she had chance to draw breath to reply Reaper was weaving another pattern with his huge hands.
His eyes remained closed and still he made not a sound, but his fingers told Marcii that he had already known Malorie was dead.
He knew she had been murdered.
To that, Marcii had no reply.
Suddenly she felt tears streaming down her own cheeks.
When Reaper opened his brimming eyes to look upon the young girl again, he saw that she shared in at least a little of his pain.
Marcii’s legs carried her before her mind could even think and she found herself wrapping her arms around Reaper, or at least as much of his massive body as she could manage. She buried her head into his thick, warm, soft fur and the heat from his enormous bulk engulfed her.
He seemed surprised at first, but then pleased. He lifted one arm and carefully laid it around Marcii, ensuring he didn’t hurt her.
After a few minutes the young Dougherty stepped back and craned her neck back to look up at him.
He wiped his eyes dry and looked down at her, his jet black irises filled with sorrow.
His hands came up and danced in front of his chest, asking if Marcii had known Malorie well.
“She was my friend.” Marcii replied simply.
Reaper didn’t need to tell her that Malorie had been more than just a friend to him, for his expression spoke volumes that mere words would never have been able to.
Somehow Reaper could convey perfectly everything he wanted to say without the need for speech. His seemingly limitless expressions and gestures, combined with his body language, allowed his conversation with Marcii to grow and flourish.
She struggled sometimes to pick up what he was trying to say, but soon enough she understood him easily. It didn’t take long for them become perfectly in tune with one another.
Reaper asked Marcii if she wanted to rest some more. He told her that the men would not find them here and that they were safe in the cave.
But although Marcii was tired, exhausted in fact, she could not sleep while she had so many questions. Her mind buzzed with activity and Reaper could see that her eyes were bright and inquisitive. He saw that her gaze was luminous and full of life, much in the way Malorie’s had always been, and his heart filled with sorrow once again.
It showed not on his face however, for he didn’t let it escape his control.
Marcii needed to ask at least one or two more questions to satisfy her burning curiosity.
“Have you always lived here?” She asked of Reaper then, cocking her head slightly to one side and glancing briefly around the cave.
He gestured with his hands a simple and remorseful motion: mostly.
“Why?�
� She asked immediately, without thinking. Instantly though she regretted it and wished she could take back her foolish question.
The answer to her query was all too obvious as she looked upon the vast, terrifying, gentle creature sat before her.
“I’m sorry…” She breathed.
Nonetheless, Reaper’s hands set about replying. They wove a complex and intricate pattern with deft, enormous fingers, forming shapes and outlines perfectly for the young Dougherty.
He told Marcii of how all feared him, although they did not know him. He explained that the only person he’d never had to hide from was Malorie. And now that she was gone, he would only ever be known as a demon.
“Reaper…” Marcii whispered, though her very breath oozed with guilt at his name, for it had been she who had revealed him to Newmarket in the first place.
She had named him as a demon, and then in fact, even unwillingly, she had led them right to him.
He had saved her life, both from the hunting party and from the elements, and she had offered him only betrayal and fear and interrogation in return.
Her body racked with guilt.
“I’m so sorry…” She repeated for the third time. “This is all my fault…”
But Reaper shook his head adamantly, almost as if he could sense her every thought.
He told her not to apologise, as his hands and fingers danced for her still.
Ogre.
Demon.
Giant.
Monster.
Reaper motioned to Marcii how he had been called every name under the sun, and that they all meant the same thing. He told her that they were just names that men gave their fears, to turn them into enemies.
He explained how he thought that men did it because it made them feel better: that they would be less afraid if they were facing some creature in particular, and not simply a nameless enemy.
Even if that creature was a made up fantasy, it didn’t matter.
The ideas Reaper wove astounded Marcii and she couldn’t help but be drawn into them.
She couldn’t help but believe them, for they made perfect sense.
He was not wrong.
It was a childish act, to be sure.
To justify fear by inventing a monster of some kind: ghosts, bogeymen, ghouls, werewolves, vampires.
They were all simply figments of imagination.
It seemed all of a sudden obvious to Marcii that it was a habit children didn’t grow out of, and in fact, it was something that only worsened as they got older, as their imaginations grew wilder and more experienced.
Reaper had indeed opened her heart, for he looked at the world she had lived in for her whole life through completely different eyes.
It didn’t take much for Marcii to decide that she liked the way he looked at the world.
He was like nothing she’d ever known.
Marcii hoped she would come to know him, for indeed he was all she could ever have asked for and more.
Chapter Six
Marcii rested for most of what remained of the day. The night had been long and exhausting and soon enough her fatigue got the better of her.
Reaper knew that when she awoke, though she might have been rested, she would be hungry.
He assured her that once dusk had passed and night had fallen, they would hunt.
He could not go out during the day, for when it was light he had no way to conceal himself from the fearful, prying eyes of men.
There were still many questions that floated around in Marcii’s thoughts as she settled once again into Reaper’s warm lap to sleep, but there was one more prudent and more at the forefront of her mind than all the rest.
And so, as slumber once again reared its head to claim her, Marcii thought on the question that Reaper himself had raised in her mind. When he’d told her that people had called him a demon, a monster, even a giant, Marcii had gotten to wondering a few things.
Where had he come from?
How had he come to know Malorie?
But most of all, if not an ogre or a monster or a giant, what was he?
She was adamant however, above all else, that he was no demon, for he was kinder and more gentle than most people she had ever known.
She wasn’t about to ask him those things though. She was afraid enough that she’d already hurt his feelings and so she kept her questions to herself, allowing sleep to carry her off for what was left of the day.
It didn’t take long.
The night had most certainly drained her.
The sounds of the surrounding stone and of the woodlands outside soothed her as they echoed endlessly around the cave. It seemed that the rock and earth was just as alive and made just as much noise as the creatures that chirped and barked and hummed amidst the trees.
Reaper cradled Marcii gently, just as he had done when he’d rescued her.
He looked down upon the sleeping girl curled in his lap with both kindness and affection. Such emotions he was full of, but he hadn’t been able to share them for such a long time.
Solitude had been all he’d known for so many long years now.
He had always loved Malorie and, naturally, cared very deeply for her.
But, unfortunately, as is all too often the case, he had only been able to do so from afar. He could not have gone to Newmarket and she had been bound there by her duties.
Little did young Marcii Dougherty know of all that though, and for now at least, that would have to be the way it remained.
Chapter Seven
Marcii did not toss and turn as she slept, for she felt secure in Reaper’s embrace. She rested soundly and peacefully and without being plagued by nightmares.
Eventually though, just as dusk was cast over the mountains and the fields and forests of the land, her hunger stirred her to waken, for her stomach was growling fiercely.
With a long yawn she looked up and blinked awake.
She noted curiously that Reaper seemed to be sat in exactly the same position as when she’d last looked up. He had not shifted even slightly.
The fire had been reduced to smouldering embers, for it had not been replenished, though its glow still shone the damp walls of the cave a warm amber colour.
Reaper cast his gaze down slightly and Marcii could just about make him out in the murky darkness above her, for her eyes were adjusting well to the lack of light.
“Didn’t you sleep?” She asked curiously.
Because Reaper’s one arm was tied up beneath her, he responded, somehow, with only his expression, a slight lift of his massive shoulders, and one huge hand, all just about visible by the dim firelight.
He explained to her with nothing more than a simple gesture, a commonplace expression, and a slight shrug, that he did not need to sleep.
He never had done.
“Really?” Marcii questioned, intrigued. “Why?”
But Reaper did not know, and he told Marcii exactly that.
The young Dougherty was finding the mysterious creature Reaper more and more fascinating by the moment. But, just as she drew breath to ask another question, her stomach rumbled a deep reminder that she was long overdue a meal.
Reaper’s expression was knowing and he lifted Marcii effortlessly to her feet, whilst at the same time placing his free hand on the floor to bring himself onto all fours.
Marcii clutched at her shrinking waistline and giggled sheepishly, for the sound of her stomach’s cries echoed about the cave in all directions.
With a faint gesture of his hand Reaper motioned towards the cave entrance, warning Marcii with a mere flicker of his eyes that if they did not find food soon, sleep would not be enough to restore her strength.
She didn’t speak this time, but instead nodded in reply, smiling her thanks.
His concern was well noted by the young girl.
Reaper led Marcii carefully to the entrance of the cave. Even before she emerged out into the forest that she knew lay beyond she could feel the biting chill of the wind
longing to cut her to shreds.
Pausing at the sloping entrance and turning to face her, concern evident in his eyes, Marcii knew what Reaper was going to ask before he’d even raised his hands.
Sure enough, as she had predicted, his motions wove a question in the dark of the night, asking her if she would rather remain there. The weather was on the turn again and it was only going to get colder.
He assured her that he wouldn’t be long.
“I want to come.” Marcii replied, adamant that she wanted to help in any way that she could. “I can’t let you feed me and do nothing in return.”
Reaper’s expression was understanding, but his eyes hardened slightly as if to make his point more firmly. His hands did exactly the same as they wove again into motion, for they cut clearly and precisely through even the darkness.
He pointed out to her, and quite rightly so, that food would be no good to her if she died of cold before it was cooked. As his fingers danced he eyed the leather jacket she still wore, for though it was a fine garment, albeit filthy, it was not suited for the harshness of winter.
He made his point quite clear.
Marcii smiled and sighed.
“You’re right, of course…” She admitted. “I just feel so useless…” She dropped her head and her shoulders sagged, but already she could feel the shivers of cold coming on, even just stood in the entranceway to the cave.
Reaper’s enormous hand came to her chin and lifted it so that her eyes met his, and with those jet black coals he reassured her almost wholly.
Weaving yet another kindness with his fingers, he requested that she replenish and stoke the embers for his return, for the meat would not cook without fire, and better to have one ready and waiting than to have to start from scratch.
“Thank you.” Marcii replied gratefully and she wrapped her arms around Reaper’s enormous neck, only just about able to reach him because he was stood on all fours, and even then she had to jump.
He looped one hand softly around her back for a few moments before turning and hastening towards the entrance. The winds were howling louder by the second and undoubtedly the rains would soon follow.