Shop's beast

Dust dances in the late afternoon sun slicing through the Galliholm alley. Ashe still young at eighty-five years old can weave through the throng, his senses alight with the racket of trading. The aroma of baker’s spiced bread battles the metallic tang from the forge. He hums a quiet melody, a rhythm against the shouts of vendors and the clatter of wooden carts. His gaze drifts, observing the swirl of activity—the familiar faces, the ever-present hum of the burg. Suddenly, a shriek slices through the air, sharp and raw—a sound that snaps heads and stills the bustling street.

“Eeeeeeeek! Get out! Get out!”

Ashe’s hum dies. His head whips around, eyes narrowed at the Ruvan Curio. Its windows, usually adorned with polished neros, now gape with splintered wood and shattered glass. A collective gasp ripples through the crowd. Without a second thought, Ashe sprints, his short legs pumping as he weaves past startled onlookers. The sharp crunch of glass underfoot echoes as he vaults over a fallen display stand, his gaze sweeping the chaotic interior. Wooden shelves lie toppled on rúvan figures, ancient scrolls, and glitter trinkets. They have shattered across the floor like a forgotten dream. A towering woman stands in the midst of the wreckage. Her pristine tunic is smudged with dust and a dark streak. His long, slender fingers tremble pointing toward the back of the shop.

“It’s… it’s a beast!” Squeaking barely above ragged breaths. “It just… came in! Right through the window!”

Ashe follows her finger glances at a beast huddled in a corner. It’s amidst a pile of overturned tapestries and the debris. It’s large in shape but its fur is matted and dull now tangled. One foreleg is bent at an odd angle with a dark stain blossoming on its flank. Its breath comes in ragged, wheezing gasps. Its brass eyes hold a desperate, haunted look. It’s not roaring or lashing out—just trembling, a pathetic heap of muscle and bone.

“Easy, easy,” murmurs to keep his voice low and calming. He takes a slow step toward the woman, “What happened? Are you hurt?” Raises his hands in front of him.

Startled by his sudden appearance the woman jumps. Her wide gray eyes are glazed with fear. “H-hurt? No, I don’t think so. My beautiful shop! And that… beast!” pointing again to jab the air. “It just burst in! I thought it was going to eat me!”

“The beast doesn’t look like it’s going to eat,” observing his gaze fix on the trembling beast. It lets out a soft moan, a sound of pure agony, then shivers violently. “Looks more like it’s going to collapse.”

“Collapse? Good! Let it! Then the porel can take it away,” her voice rises in a desperate wail. “Porel will be coming any anon! What will be said for my shop is ruined. And a beast inside?” Glances at the shattered window back at the keeper. He needs to act fast if the beast is to be saved. Potel's first instinct will be to put it down no questions asked.

“Listen to me.” stepping closer with a firm voice but gentle. “What’s your name?”

“My name? It’s… Saye.” blinking momentarily distracted by the unexpected question.

“Ashe, now peek at the beast,” gestures toward it now slumped further. The beast’s head resting on its paws, breath coming in shallow, painful gasps. “Does that look like it's going to rampage misfit to you? It’s wounded. Badly.”

Saye squints as she hesitates in taking a tentative step forward. The beast doesn’t stir, not even twitch an ear. It simply lies there, an embodiment of misery. “It… it does look rather unwell,” he admits, his voice losing some frantic edge, replaced by reluctant curiosity. “But it’s a beast! A wild beast! It doesn’t belong in the burg or my shop!”

“We need to figure out why it’s in this place,” his gaze sweeps the wrecked shop to settle back on the beast. “They don’t stumble into the burg if something had driven it here.”

Distant rhythmic thuds grow louder toward the shop. They hear the proels’ heavy boots marching non-stop. “Oh dear, they are coming!” whimpers as her eyes widen with panic again. “What do we do? We can’t let them see it like this!”

“We have to calm down,” his voice drops low and urgent. “Need a story to give them so we can figure things out.”

Hands pull at his tunic at the same time her voice cracks, “Time? For what? To get eaten?”

“To understand why the beast came,” kneels carefully a few feet from the beast. It doesn’t react as its eyes are half-closed. He notices its shoulder has a deep gash crusted with dried blood. The beast’s ribs are protruding sharply beneath matted fur. “It’s been in a bad fight and it’s starving. Look at its eyes, Saye. It’s not malice but fear and desperation. And hunger.”

Despite hier fear Saye leaning in closer for her curiosity piqued. “Hunger? You mean… it’s not trying to attack me; it’s just looking for food?”

“Or shelter. Or a safe place to die.” Replies grimly. “It’s weak from exhaustion and hunger to become desperate. It probably smelled something, got disoriented, and crashed through your window in a panic.”

“My window,” moans while looking around her wrecked shop. “My beautiful custom-made window. Oh, the many coins!”

“You can worry about the window later,” stands to place a hand on Saye's arm. “We need to think if the porel sees this first they dispatch it. And if it’s truly a lost, starving beast, it could be a tragedy.”

The thud of boots is right outside of the shop’s door. It’s accompanied by low murmurs. A shadow falls across the shattered doorway. “Porel! Keeper, are you inside?” a gruff voice calls out.

Let out a terrified squeak, “We’re trapped! He’ll see the beast!”

“No, we’re not,” his mind races to something quick. “What’s the costliest thing in your shop? That could have been stolen to explain the broken window?”

Saye's eyes dart around to widen. “My grandfather’s sunstone! It’s in the back, near where… where the beast is!”

“Perfect.” A plan forms in his mind. “Tell them you heard a crash to find the window broken and the sunstone missing. You thought it was a thief and you screamed. The beast… the beast is just a stray that wandered in after the thief fled. The beast was disoriented by the commotion and broken glass.”

“A stray? But it’s a… a beast!” protesting though a flicker of understanding lights her eyes.

“It’s a large, confused lazhir,” lowers his voice to a whisper. “The beast that got scared and hid in your shop. Can you do it?”

Takes a deep, shuddering breath and nods. “Can… can try. But what about the sunstone? It’s not actually stolen!”

“We hide it later to not be found,” gives Saye’s arm a comfort pat. “Just keep calm. Behave distressed about the theft, not the beast.”

Two burly Syenvels Porel wearing leather armor steps inside. Their faces grimly staring at them, “What’s the turmoil here?” Their eyes sweeping the wreckage.

“Oh! Thanks, you can save us!” voice trembling with a blend of terror and relief. She points to the shattered window. “Heard a crash to find my window spy a fleeing thief! And then… then I saw it!” Points to the corner just slightly off, aiming toward the wall. “My grandfather’s Sunstone! It’s stolen by the thief who must have grabbed it!”

Porel exchanges a glance between them. “A jewel thief, you say surprised?” rests his hand on the hilt of his short wavy sword. He peeks at the beast, brow furrowed. “And this… beast?”

“Oh, it's a lost beast!” Forces a shaky laugh. “It’s just… a stray. A frightened lazhir must have wandered in after the thief left. The beast was started by the broken grass and commotion. It’s hiding as the beast has become weakened.” She manages a convincing sniffle. “My shop! My precious sunstone! Oh, the tragedy!”

Ashe stands quietly expressing a concerned bystander. He subtly shifts his weight positions slightly in front of the beast. It obscures its more obvious wounds from the porel’s sight. One of the men approaches the window to examine the shards.

“Looks like a clean smash. Could be a thief. We’ll put out a notice for the Sunstone. Describe it to us.”

Saye launches into a detailed if overstated sunstone description. Ashe’s eyes remain on the beast for it has barely moved once. Its breathing is becoming shallow as the body is still trembling. This isn’t just hunger; it’s exhaustion, shock, and likely a high fever.

“A beautiful piece, truly,” concludes to dab at her eyes with a cloth. “Just so relieved both of you have come to my shop. It was all so frightening to be through.”

“Have a wathin stationed outside tonight if the thief returns,” making a note on a small slate. “And as for the… stray. It seems harmless enough for now. Send a tamer from the stables in the morning to inspect it. The tamer will know what to do with it.”

“Thank you, porel too kind!” gushes as he ushers them toward the door. “Such order and loyalty!”

Porel men both nods satisfied with the tidings to depart. Their heavy boots recede into the burg’s ambient noise. Saye collapses against a dusty counter the anon they are gone. His ears pick up her letting out a long, shuddering breath.

“My heart was beating like a drum! Thought they would see right through us!” Clutches her chest as her eyes become wide. “But it worked! You’re a wily, gifted wise!”

“We’re not out of the woods yet.” Ashe turns back to the beast. “Tamers don’t like a weak beast likely to put it down. It’s too large, too wild-looking for Galliholm. We need to aid the beast now, Falan.”

Saye looks at the beast back to Ash with a mix of fear and rue. She has a growing resolve on her face. “Aid it? But… how? It’s a beast and it’s injured! Don’t know anything about them!”

He gently smiles as his body relaxes. “It’s a beast in pain and it’s dying. We need to clean its wounds, get some food into it, and warm it up. It’s clearly suffering from exposure too.”

“But… how do we even begin?” Wringing her hands. “Have no beast remedies! No food for such a beast! My larder has dried fruit and vaen tea!”

Ashe’s gaze falls on a stack of thick woven blankets. “Use those blankets to make a bed for the beast. It needs warmth. For food… we need meat. Something easily digestible. Do you have any spare coins?”

Saye rummages in her tunic to produce a small leather pouch. “A few. The butcher is closing in a few anons. And ask questions about the raw meat for… a ‘stray lazhir’.”

“Haste in going,” moves toward the broken window. “Get what we need. You… start by clearing a space for it. Carefully. Don’t make any sudden movements around it. And try to make some water available if you have a large enough bowl.”

“Water… yes, can do that.” Still looks overwhelmed but less panicked now. “Be careful, Ashe. Galliholm doesn't like who lies about a weak beast.”

“Yes, know it's true." gives a quick reassuring nod. He slips out carefully through the shattered window.

The cool evening air is a stark contrast to the stuffy, fear-filled shop. Ashe swiftly goes through the darkening alleys heading to the butcher’s stall. His mind is already planning another small convincing lie to procure the meat.

He returns clutching in his hand a leather covered raw meat. A small herbal salve vial sticking out his belt from the boyla. He slips back through the window with his movements silent. “Got fresh meat,” Whispers in unwrapping the package. The rich coppery scent of the meat fills the air. The beast’s ears twitch, its nose lifts slightly, a faint rumble in its chest. “The salve should help with its wound.”

Look at the raw meat with a grimace. “That’s… rather gruesome. Are you sure it’s safe?”

“It’s what it needs,” tears off a small piece of meat. He kneels slowly, extending the morsel toward the beast. “Boy, need to eat a little. You need your strength.”

The beast’s eyes intensity watches the meat in his fingers. Its thick, heavy tail gives a faint thump against the floor. Tentatively it stretches out its neck as a large tongue flicks. The tongue tastes the air before a sudden surprisingly swift movement. Ashe’s eyes widen to have his hand dropping it as the beast snatches in midair. They watch it shallow the meat whole in front of them. The beast eats with the pieces with a desperate hurried pace. Its hunger clearly is overwhelming its pain and agony. As the beast finishes the meat off a faint spark returns to its eyes.

“It’s eating!” whispers as a genuine smile breaking through her earlier fear. “Oh Ashe, look! It’s actually eating!”

“Good the beast needs to,” continues feeding it small pieces. Once the meat is gone, he turns his attention to the beast’s wounds. “This will sting so stay still, I’m afraid.”

Ashe carefully applies the salve to the beast’s shoulder gash. The beast lets out a low growl, a rumble of discomfort, but remains still, seemingly understanding this is for its benefit. He cleans the wound as best he can to cover it with a old linen bandage.

“It’s a magnificent beast, even like this,” observing Ashe work on the beast. “What kind of beast do you think it is?”

Ashe pauses, running a hand over the beast’s matted fur. “A lazhir beast which tamers love to hunt or scout with. Tamers will care for them but what happened to it,” finishes with the bandage to place his hand on the beast’s flank. He feels the heat radiating from its body. “The beast has a bad fever. It needs rest, warmth, and more food. Time to heal away from curious eyes.”

Saye looks around his ruined shop, then back at the beast curled on the soft blankets. The beast's breathing a little less ragged to have a sigh escape her—not one of despair, but reluctant acceptance. “So, we have a lazhir injured in my shop,” a wry, almost amused smile playing on her lips. “What to do when the beast is better? It can’t stay here forever.”

“Find a better tamer for the beast,” strokes the lazhir beast’s head. It leans into his touch, letting out a soft purr—a deep rumble vibrating through the floorboards. “The plan is simple: keep it hidden from the tamers, fed, and keep it warm. Make sure no one discovers the Sunstone. Porel decides to ask if the Sunstone was brought back.”

“A secret then.” muses to look at the sleeping lazhir beast. “A very large, very furry secret. And the Sunstone?”

“Tell them you’re too distraught to speak of it,” suggests with a nod, “Or tell them a dream that it will return when the moon is full.”

Laughs genuinely echoing softly in the damaged shop. “A plan to aid the beast. Bring it back to health. And then… then find a tamer who wants a lazhir,” peeks at the sleeping beast, a strange protective fondness growing in his eyes. “This is going to be quite the journey?”

Smiles as a quiet sense of purpose settling over him. “Indeed, Saye. Indeed, it is.” Outside, Galliholm hums with its usual evening rhythm. It’s oblivious to the strange alliance forged within the shattered walls of the shop—a secret between Ashe, Saye, and an ailing lazhir beast. The starry night gently wraps the burg in their glowing. A soft, steady breathing of the healing lazhir becomes an unexpected rhythm of Saye’s life.