Chained Animal

Huewelen sat with her eyes closed, as the ships rocked back and forth on the tide, setting deeper into sea. She could hear the sea sloshing against the sides, the shouts of the crew above her, the sea so desperate to make its way into the ship and sink it., claiming the souls of sailors as it’s prize. She imagined the creatures of the deep, whales larger than the tiny and fragile vessel that sailed above them, dark shapes looming just under the sea’s skin, creating patches like footsteps, of completely calm water, where they rose from the sea to vent water through their blow holes in huge fountains that rose into the air like steam, with a sharp hiss. She loved whales, such gentle and docile creatures. The ship lurched to the side and she tumbled to the floor, smacking into the rusted bars that prevented her escape, though there were few places she could run when surrounded by water. Of course, they were more concerned about what she would do, not where she would go. A wicked smile crept across her lips; even the idea of revenge was enough to lift her drowning spirits. Her head was thumping, from the crack to the bars, but she was too weak to lift her hands and check it. The chains that bound her in place to the ships wall rattled as she stood up carefully, falling over immediately as the ship lurched once more, on particularly rough waves. If she’d had something to eat in the last 24 hours she might have vomited, but it seemed she didn’t have the energy to be sick either. Her neck was sore from the chaffing metal collar, rusted by sea water. Her fur was lashed with angry red marks, and singes, where she had been whipped so hard the fur had been ripped from her back, and where hot pokers had been placed against what was once human flesh, until they had forced her to take on her feline appearance, then forced her down here. She was stuck now. She was stuck in her half human, half jaguar body, walking on two legs, but covered in fur, with whiskers and a tail that drooped hopelessly and dragged in the dust and indescribable filth that littered her tiny cells floor. The wounds were festering; she could feel it, infection seeping into her body, making her weaker still. None dared to come near her to clean them, afraid she would tear their throats out, or slash their fat belly’s open and feast on the gore inside, as the rumours of her kind predicted. It was tempting. Very tempting after days of starvation and abuse, but the idea of human flesh turned her stomach and with the foul smell and churning ship, she could no longer hold down the bile, it rose to her throat like acid, burning with an evil intensity before it was projected from her mouth on the floor below, leaving a disgusting taste that she tried to spit out, and leaving her so weak she couldn’t even drag herself back to her bunk. Her head swam with dizzying spots flashing and popping in front of her eyes that glowed like lanterns in the dim light. Erie glow of amber like traffic lights. Her once smooth and golden fur, with its motel of dark patches was now drab and faded. Her human hair hung in sweaty, greasy lumps of pale brown around her head. How long had it been since she had last been allowed to bathe? She heard the squeak of a rat in the darkness, it scuttled closer, skirting the vomit, and sniffed at her toes, she felt it’s whiskers tickling her flesh, it’s tiny breath on her skin, she kicked it way, but it didn’t go far, it would be back, probably when she was sleeping or unconscious, to nibble at her toes, and inflict further damage on her body. She reached up with furry fingers and felt the tribal tattoos on her cheeks where the fur never grew when she transformed. Of course those tattoos had been added before they realised what she was, before she’d been thrown out of her village. She drew her hands away quickly and fearfully. Something’s where better forgotten. She felt down her arms to her wrists, where tattoo’s much newer than the ones that marked her face, had been cut and dyed into the skin. Swirls and dots’ around her wrists, the second tribe to have accepted her, where she didn’t have to hide what she was. Then they’d betrayed her. Sold her to these monsters. She wept bitter tears that cut lines through the dirt on her face. Revealing the elegant markings below. Marked for life, she couldn’t ever escape the pain of what they had done to her. It was her or them, they had told her, what choice did they have? They’d asked her as she was pulled screaming and yowling to the wooden boat that carried her to this ship. Of course the bag of jewels that been exchanged couldn’t have made it hard to part with her. She watched them, before she had been sedated with a powerful sleeping drug, made by her betrayers, watched them all standing on the beach as her eye lids drooped and her muscles relaxed, the ones she had called friends, the ones she had almost called family and the one she had loved. The one that had sold her. As the agony wrenched through her broken heart, she threw herself at the bars, banging and screaming, “LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT!” But it was no good, either they couldn’t hear her, or they were ignoring her. She sank back down, her grip loosening on the bars, the rough metal scraping the palms of her hands, and flakes of rusted metal falling into her wide, slited eyes. She rubbed them and felt moisture seeping out from behind them. She was crying because something was in her eye, yes, it was the metal in her eyes making her cry.
She wished the rat would return. She wanted so badly to eat that her stomach had moved beyond grumbling and aching. Even when she had been on her own she had not been this hungry. She wasn’t the best hunter, it was true, but there was always fresh fruit, ripe and so juicy, she had to be careful not to burst it open with her bare hands, it would run down her chin on to her body, sticky and warm and refreshing. She had never dreamed she would end up like this…
When they had tattooed her wrists, she’d never questioned why hers where different to the others. Circling her wrists like irons, in that beautiful swirling pattern, they should have chained her up and had done with it. Why had they tempted and teased her?
They’d been playing a cruel game of follow the leader and their leader was most assuredly cruel. He’d led her deeper into the dark lie than all the others. They didn’t need to bind her in irons like a wild animal; she was bound to him by her own stupid, caring and overwhelmingly human heart.
She’d fallen for him the moment she saw him, tall and handsome, tanned skin and dark eyes, with long hair falling down his bare back and chest. Figure of a warrior with such a gentle touch. He’d been so gentle with her. When she had stumbled into the village in her half beast form he had accepted her, welcomed her, made her laugh, and helped her cry. When he touched her hands she felt her skin tingle, he’d been the one to apply her tattoos, taking such care over the details. Squeezing her fingers gently, when she winced under the pain. He’d seemed so magnificent, the fire dancing off his strong jaw line, lighting him with passionate oranges and reds, that had glittered so much more brightly in the dark orbs of his eyes than they did against the darkness surrounding them, the watchful gaze of the rest of the tribe had gone unnoticed by her as she took in the details of his appearance while he had concentrated on the work.
She examined his delicate art work. Not one flaw. She snorted angrily, would the price have gone down if there had been?
He must have known when they were due to collect her. The last few weeks she had spent with him, he’d limited her freedom. She wasn’t allowed to leave the village unescorted, and even in the village a close eye had been kept on her. He’d been jumpy and irritable, when she’d asked what was wrong, he’d snapped at her. He changed so completely from the man she had fallen in love with. How stupid she had been to believe his lies. As he had faded from view she’d seen him, with his arm looped lovingly over the shoulders of another village girl, and she knew in that moment that he had never loved her. She’d tried to pretend since then that he’d had no choice, that he’d chosen the other girl because Huewelen herself was no longer available to him, but thoughts like that had been shattered when she’d been beaten and burnt into submission. Hope was dead in her heart, the same as love. How she hated herself for shouting and wincing when they’d tortured her. She’d tried so long to resist the change, but eventually her will power and spirit had been broken under the brutal treatment and pressure that had been applied so professionally. She’d given them what they wanted, and been here ever since. She wasn’t sure where they were going. What plans they had for her, were unknown, she’d heard whispers, but nothing that gave her an idea what was happening.
Caged like a wild animal, with so little hope of ever being free, of ever taking human form again.
She would just have to stay here and see what fate would decide for her.