Chapter Text
Note: Hidden in the sand you have found a journal, many pages are destroyed but it's still highly readable. Written in English, it seems to be a first person account although, in prose. It's unclear if the contents are from the author’s imagination or not.
The blistering heat made sweat leak from my pours, my body becoming an undrinkable water fountain that I so wished for. My dry tongue licked the inside of my mouth, tasting only the sand of the desert.
The beasts of this land were more dangerous than dehydration, birds with sharp teeth, massive nightmarish lizards. They were faster, more vicious than anything back home.
They resembled dinosaurs, the fat lazy creatures from that book, The Lost World. Never before have I seen them like this, fast killing machines, the perfect animals.
I had lost all hope, laying in the crevice in a rockface. Begging thee to give water or death. The stone was warm, burning hot against my sweltering skin.
Then, I heard it, the first call of my demise. Many feet, a pack of wolves? Maybe something more dangerous. I could barely lift my head, the sun’s rays dampening even just for a moment.
Many a canines, brown wild fur and a stocky body. Not at all close to wolves like I had thought. They all had box snouts and gnarled teeth made to mar their prey. They were like nothing I had seen, like something out of the african wilds. Their fur pointed up on their backs, yet they studied me with docility.
Behind them, a shadow blocked the sun from me, I had dared put the effort into looking up at what cast it.
Two horns stuck out at the sides of this creature’s head like that of a devil, it's rider even more horrible. A doglike face curled back in a snarl. It's ears were naked, spikes coming from its back like hackles. A pack of pariah dogs, horrible hyenas were at it's heels, their own lips curled back into cruel smiles.
The beast wore clothes, much like a man, thin fabrics made for the desert of this scorched earth. The beastman glared down at me, its mouth open in a growl.
“Please,” I begged, “make it a swift death.”
My eyes closed, waiting for the killing blow. However, it never came. Only the growls and cackles of the dogs, the breathing of the devilbeast. Something hit the stone, claws scraping against them. Too light to be the devilbeast, too few to be the pariah dogs, I opened my eyes to the beastman standing above me, his large shape blocking the burning sun.
Two pointed ears pointed straight up towards the heavens, he bent down towards me. His leathery claws outstretched, gentle, almost like he were scared his immense strength would hurt my frail body. I couldn't see what he held until it was right in front of me, a watersack. My ears perked at the liquid inside of it, the promise giving me the strength to shaky pull myself from death and take it.
He didn't say a word, he didn't have to. The fresh water was enough, more than I could wish for. I gave the beastman my greatest thanks, begging him for how I could repay him. How humble he was, taking the empty container and silently wrapping it back onto the saddle of his beastly ride.
I had many a questions for him, where had the beastman come from? How had he tamed the devilbeast and the pariah dogs? I didn't dare say another word as he climbed back into the saddle effortlessly. He grabbed the reigns, the horrible lizard rearing up almost stepping back before carefully being guided down the rocks. I stood up straight, watching him begin to follow the direction I had come from.
The beastman turned, making a ‘nak nak’ sound by smacking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He gestured for me, ‘come with us’ he said wordlessly. I had no choice but to follow.
I had followed, this manbeast leading me like a shepherd for days. We had made camp in shallow caves during the hottest times of the day, staying cool by the darkened rocks. I learned quickly that he didn't speak english nor any of the other languages of Europe. He communed via hand signals, simple universal ones as well as more complicated ones that I could not understand.
I had asked the name of my savior, one cold night when we roasted meat over a campfire under the stars. He looked back at me, his eyes sad with memories before attempting to answer. He turned his snout back down to the meat, making a deliberate coughing sound.
“Your name is a cough?” I had asked, dumbfounded.
He shook his head. ‘Ck ow’ He pronounced it more clearly, his lips were unable to move in the same way as a human’s.
“Are you trying to say ‘cow’?” I had guessed incorrectly, he growled and shook his head.
“Ssk. Ksh ow.” What a curse. Too smart to be fully beast, too beastly to be fully be human. Unable to say his own name.
Why would the lord curse a creature so humble? Perhaps he was atoning for his own sins, having been cursed a long time ago.
I couldn't understand, he was getting frustrated now. Growling to himself before he put a claw into the sand. To my astonishment, he began to write. I leaned over, the fire flickering embers missing my face as I watched him write.
A ‘c’, then an ‘h’, ‘o’ and finally a ‘w’. He underlined it, slowly bringing his claw under his name. “Chow.”
He nodded, his lips curling up into a gruesome smile. Many would be scared to death by a smile such as that, but I, having long been ripped from the comfort of home, found joy within it.
“Chow… Like chowchow dogs.” Those dogs were much more fluffy than this beastman in front of him, having manes like lions and tremendous roars that matched their hot temper.
He made a sound, like a deep cough in his throat came out in a growl. He picked a steak from the fire, tossing it onto a stone before taking his weapon cutting it into little pieces. He tossed each little square into the air.
What I had thought pariah dogs, garbage eating scavengers, were loyal companions. Protectors they were, never had they tried to steal meat or drink. Patiently they had sat at the side, only when the food was thrown to them did they jump and eat. One by one they all caught pieces of meat. I had walked alongside them and they had protected me during the harsh days. I appreciated the hyenas, and their gnarled crooked teeth did not harm me.
The steak was tough, having come from the thigh of a duckbilled dinosaur. I had envisioned them living in swamps, honking to each other through mist from their long bending crests. A swamp was a dream now, humidity a long forgotten wish.
It was nothing short of a miracle that anything could survive this scorched earth, like God had created it as a test of will. This is where he put the terrible lizards and through all my repentance I ended up here as well. A hopeful thought, though deep in my heart I knew the devil had claimed my soul.
I wonder what kind of sin my companion had committed to end up the way he was. Surely, one could not be born a beastman, a beastiality so abhorrent would be too cruel for the offspring to live with. Then again, I had never seen a creature such as him in this horrible desert and I never will again.