“What are you doing?” shouted the blacksmith. “You’ll damn us to death!”

And then the great head of the Beast appeared above the blacksmith, and one of its clawed arms shot out and grasped the man, lifting him high into the air and straight into its waiting jaws. David looked away, unable to watch the blacksmith die. The other defenders were using spears and swords now. Fletcher, who was bigger and stronger than any of the others, raised a sword and with a single blow tried to sever one of the Beast’s arms from its body, but it was as thick and hard as the trunk of a tree, and the sword barely broke its skin. Still, the pain distracted it for long enough to allow the villagers to begin their retreat from the walls, just as David and Roland managed to raise the barrier from the gates.

The Beast was attempting to climb over the wall, but Roland had instructed the men to force sticks tipped with hooks through the gaps if the Beast got close enough. They tore at the Beast’s hide, and it writhed and twisted upon them. The hooks slowed it down, but it continued to try to push itself over the defenses, even at the cost of great injury to itself. Just then, Roland opened the gates and appeared outside the walls. He drew an arrow and fired it at the side of the Beast’s head.

“Hey!” shouted Roland. “This way. Come on!”

He waved his arms, then fired again. The Beast pulled its body from the wall and flopped down onto the ground, the ooze from its wounds staining the snow black. It turned on Roland, pushing itself through the gates, its arms trying to grab him as he ran ahead of it, its head thrusting forward, its jaws snapping at his heels. It paused as it crossed the threshold, taking in the twisting streets, the fleeing men.

Roland waved his torch and sword. “Here!” he cried. “Here I am!”

Roland loosed another arrow, barely missing the Beast’s jaws, but it was no longer interested in him. Instead, its nostrils opened and closed as it lowered its head, sniffing, searching. David, hiding in the shadows outside the blacksmith’s forge, saw his face reflected in the depths of its eyes as the Beast found him. Its jaws opened, dripping saliva and blood, and then one of its sharp claws swiped the roof from the forge as it reached for the boy. David threw himself backward just in time to avoid being swept up in the creature’s grasp. Dimly, he heard Roland’s voice.

“Run, David! You must lure it for us!”

David rose to his feet and began to sprint through the narrow streets of the village. Behind him, the Beast crushed the walls and roofs of cottages as it followed him, its head lunging at the little figure fleeing before it, its claws raking at the air. Once David stumbled, and the claws tore at the clothes on his back as he rolled out of their reach and got to his feet again. Now he was just a stone’s throw from the center of the village. There was a square around the church, where markets had been held in happier times. Channels had been dug through it by the defenders so that the oil would flow into the square, surrounding the Beast. David raced across the open space toward the doors of the church, the Beast just feet behind him. Roland was already in the doorway, urging David forward.

Suddenly, the Beast stopped. David turned and stared at it. In the nearby houses, the men were preparing to send the oil into the channels, but they too ceased what they were doing and watched the Beast. It began to shudder and shake. Its jaws grew impossibly wide, and it spasmed as if in great pain. Suddenly it fell to the ground as its belly began to swell. David could see movement inside. A shape pressed itself against the Beast’s skin from within.

She. The Crooked Man had said the Beast was a female.

“It’s giving birth!” shouted David. “You have to kill it now!”

It was too late. The Beast’s belly split open with a great ripping sound, and her offspring began to pour out, miniatures of herself, each as big as David, their eyes clouded and unseeing but their jaws gaping and hungry for food. Some were chewing their way out of their own mother, eating her flesh as they freed themselves from her dying body.

“Pour the oil!” shouted Roland to the other men. “Pour it, then light the fuses and run!”

Already, the young were pushing themselves across the square, the instincts to hunt and kill already strong within them. Roland pulled David inside the church and locked the door behind them. Something thrust against it from outside, and the door trembled in its frame.

Roland took David by the hand and led him toward the bell tower. They ascended the stone steps until they reached the very top, where the bell itself hung, and from there they looked down upon the square.

The Beast was still lying on her side, but she had stopped moving. If she was not already dead, then she soon would be. Most of her offspring continued to feed upon her, chewing at her insides and gnawing at her eyes. Others were squirming across the square, or searching the surrounding cottages for food. The oil was running through the channels, but the young did not seem troubled by it. In the distance, David saw the surviving defenders running for the gates, desperate to escape the creatures.

“There are no flames,” cried David. “They haven’t lit the fires.”

Roland drew one of the oil-soaked arrows from his quiver. “Then we will have to do it for them,” he said.

He lit the arrow from his flaming torch, then aimed for one of the channels of oil below. The arrow shot from the bow and struck the black stream. Instantly, flames arose, the fire racing across the square, following the patterns that had been cut into it. The creatures in its path began to burn, sizzling and writhing as they died. Roland took a second arrow and fired into a cottage through its window, but nothing happened. Already, David could see some of the young trying to escape from the square and the flames. They could not be allowed to return to the forest.

Roland notched a final arrow to his bow, drew it against his cheek, and released it. This time there was a loud explosion from inside the cottage, and its roof was lifted off by the force of the blast. Flames shot up into the air, and then there were more explosions as the system of barrels that Roland had created inside the houses ignited one after the other, showering burning liquid all over the square and killing everything within reach. Only Roland and David were saved, high in their perch in the bell tower, for the flames could not reach the church. There they stayed, the stink of the burning creatures and the smell of acrid smoke filling the air, until there was only the dying crackle of the flames and the soft whisper of snow melting in fire to disturb the silence of the night.

DAVID AND ROLAND left the village next morning. By then the snow had ceased falling, and although thick drifts still masked the lay of the land, it was possible to pick out the route that the concealed road took between the tree-covered hills. The women, children, and old men had returned from their hiding places in the caves. David could hear some of them crying and wailing as they stood before the smoldering ruins of what were once their homes, or mourning those who had been lost, for three men had died fighting the Beast. Others had gathered in the square, where the horses and oxen were once again being pressed into service, this time to haul away the charred carcasses of the Beast and her foul offspring.

Roland had not asked David why he thought the Beast had chosen to pursue him through the village, but David had seen the soldier looking at him thoughtfully as they prepared to depart. Fletcher, too, had seen what occurred, and David knew that he also was curious. David was not sure how he would answer the question if it was asked. How could he explain his sense that the Beast was familiar to him, that there was a corner of his imagination where the creature had found an echo of herself? What frightened him most of all was the feeling that he had somehow been responsible for her creation, and the deaths of the soldiers and the villagers were now on his conscience.