Page 146 of Mazywood

With a firm grip of her full arm, Imani tugged Tasha to her feet with strength that surprised them both. While Tasha found her balance, her left foot bumped against the cavern wall, a pain so powerful that her body spasmed and she was afraid she would faint. Her scream from her wide-open mouth was silent; even half-mindless with agony, she didn’t want to make a sound. Just in case. Imani hugged her tight, her apology unspoken. She was trembling.

“It’s okay…” Tasha whispered to her dear daughter’s helmet, near her ear.

Tasha propped herself against the cavern wall with her left leg and right hand raised, the spear ready. No, not a spear—throwing this wouldn’t hurt Not A Bear. She would wait until it was closer—until it opened those flaps and sailed toward them.

As she imagined Not A Bear, the white coat appeared low to the ground, gliding close to the wall, almost obscured outside of the light’s ring. It moved more like a fish than a snake.

“Mom, how does it move like that?” Imani sounded more fascinated than frightened.

The question in Tasha’s mind was: What if it kills all of us today?

The terrible chittering that filled the nook nearly made Tasha drop her spear; her hand tried to fly open from reflex. Everything foreign and unknowable about Not A Bear was woven into that sound, a perversion of a noise a squirrel or otter might make, so chilling from an animal large enough to fill the nook’s entrance and swallow her, spitting out her bones.

Tasha shifted slightly to shield Imani, who was still tracking Not A Bear’s motion with her light. Imani’s free arm was wrapped around Tasha’s waist; half to hold her steady, half to hold her tight because she was her mother. Tasha pressed their hips close, wishing she could absorb Imani back into her body to keep her safe.

Tasha channeled the power of every mother before her as she raised her stick high, her grip tight and sure. She felt the resolve of the countless mothers in caves, in huts, in cabins, in row houses, who had stood between a monster and their children. As she stood ready, she forgot her injured foot. She forgot the cold. Her world narrowed to the light showing Not A Bear moving closer to them, still low to the ground. Its mouth was closed, but sharp teeth curled from the corners of its mouth like hooked grins. She felt Imani breathing behind her, rapid heaving.

“Keep away from us!” Tasha yelled. “Get back!”

A predator, not prey. Her voice was a scythe ready to carve this monster into strips.

Not A Bear stopped its forward motion and began to raise itself, and Tasha was ready to see those wings. Ready to pierce through that furred neck even if it meant facing its teeth, if it would keep Imani safe. She was already in pain, so pain’s power over her was stripped.

Once it was close enough, she would drench herself in its blood.

Something glimmered in Imani’s flashlight beam as the creature flung its snout and tossed something toward them from the hidden side of its mouth.

Imani screamed behind Tasha, startled. Tasha barely heard the thunk in the brush as the item landed beside them, heavy. Was it a stone? Tasha still held her stick, but she hadn’t expected Not A Bear to throw something at them, a tactic that felt more human than animal. She couldn’t stab it if it didn’t come closer. Had it understood her plan?

Imani’s light wavered for a wild instant, but soon she righted it, keeping the beam on the creature so it would not slip out of their sight. Not A Bear slid backward slightly, rearing up taller. But those awful flaps stayed plastered tight across its underbelly.

“Mom,” Imani whispered. “Look down.”

Imani wanted her to look at what the monster had thrown at them, but it was hard to coax her eyes away from its snakelike swaying as it watched them. Finally, Tasha did glance down at the debris bed near them—and stared down longer than she meant to.

“Mom?” Imani whispered. “Do you see it?”

Yes, Tasha tried to whisper back.

But she was too shocked to make a sound.

No matter how long Imani stared, the half-empty package of water bottles still lay there. The plastic packaging was mauled by teeth marks, but at least a dozen water bottles were intact inside. Weren’t these the same water bottles she’d kept wishing she’d brought with her? And now Beast had laid them at their feet.

Imani shone her beam back up squarely toward Beast—although she couldn’t call it Beast now, could she? A Beast didn’t bring you water. A Beast didn’t try to keep you warm.

The creature was swaying slowly, watching them.

Mom wrapped her free hand around Imani’s wrist as if to keep her from moving toward it. Imani could almost hear her mother trying to think her way past her unbelief.

“You belonged to Mazelle, didn’t you?” Imani asked. “Mazelle Washington?”

The Beast’s whine issued from its throat with an odd metallic hum. Then it chittered, a sound Imani had learned to hate—but now she wondered if she had misunderstood the meaning of the sound. She didn’t understand the Beast’s sounds, but she felt certain that it was saying Yes.

“Lord have mercy…” Mom whispered, her grip so tight that it hurt. Bone on bone. “Stop agitating it, Imani.”

“I don’t think it’s mad when it makes that sound,” Imani said. “It just sounds scary to us.”

“You don’t know that,” Mom challenged her like Sharise.