The Beast Within

The Changeling: Chapter Two

There was little to do after Sampson and Angela disappeared into another room.

Moira was on the floor with a toy, entertained while her parents were away, so I joined her, figuring there was no harm in playing. Her arm was red, and I felt shame that the wolf's tongue—my tongue—had made it so.

Or, I tried to reason, the rash could have been created by something else, a careless brush against the tavern's wood walls or a short tumble to the floor. 

"That's right," I said out loud for comfort, "you're just a child being clumsy."

The traps I set with Sampson were for a different animal.

The woods were full of dangerous things and people needed to protect their homes.

But not from me.

Never from me.

Moira barely noticed her companion at first, but eventually she warmed up to me. She spoke in broken sentences and mispronounced words, telling me about herself, her toy, and any other concern that struck the toddler's fancy. 

I pulled faces and sang songs. I tried, and failed, to teach her a clapping game. We counted with mixed success the number of fingers and toes she had and pointed to everything that was brown in the tavern.

She decided my company was worth having and jumped into my lap before throwing her little arms around my neck. She placed a wet kiss on my cheek, but when she pulled away to look at me her smile dropped and her brow furrowed in intense concentration.

"Doggy?"

Her stare was unsettlingly mature. It was as if she was seeing inside me, and wasn't sure she liked what she found.

Her tiny fingers grabbed my face. She leaned in and sniffed.

"Doggy."

A bubble of drool fell with the word. I shook my head.

"No, not doggy. Josiah."

"Joss."

"Josiah."

"Doggy."

"No, it's—"

"Jossy."

I smiled, content to find a middle ground, and somewhat proud to have a thing I'd secretly yearned for since I was little: A nickname.

"All right, Jossy it is. And you are Moira."

"Oi-ra!"

"Yes."

"Oi-ra. Jossy. Doggy. Doggy Jossy." She patted my head. " 'ood doggy."

I winced and held a finger to my lips.

"Shhh, it's a secret. Doggy secret. Shhh."

Of course, the child couldn't understand the dangerous ground we were treading upon. She held her finger to her mouth to mimic me.

"That's right," I said. "Shhh. Remember. Shhh."

"Shhuuuu."

"Yes."

A commotion interrupted our conversation, and I looked up to see Angela and Sampson reappear in the tavern's main room, both looking flushed and happy.

Angela's joy was short-lived, for when she saw me with her daughter she raced over and took the girl into her arms. Her hold was protective.

"What are you doing with Moira?" she asked in a sharp, accusing tone. Sampson touched his wife's arm.