Snippet Saturday: Becoming

William cracked his eyes open and without moving his head, looked at his surroundings in the early morning light. His body lay stretched along the top of a mound of straw and dry leaves. He moved to roll from his side to his back, but the pain that shot from his calf made him writhe and cry out.

He remembered his afternoon and early evening from what he had hoped was the day before. He'd bagged two rabbits and caught half a dozen small fish. He pushed from the ground, gritting his teeth through the pain as he sat up and tried to recall how he'd ended up hurt. Had he gotten the meat home to his mother and grandfather?

He'd been walking home. His bow hanging on his quiver, and his flimsy fishing pole propped over his left shoulder. He carried his bounty in his right hand. He'd meant to head home earlier, but the evening caught up with him. Dusk had begun to fall quicker than he'd thought it would. All he had wanted was to make sure there was enough meat for his family. His mother had been so weak, and he just knew if she could get a few good meals she'd be back to proper strength. His grandfather sent him to fetch food for them while the old man stayed to take care of the woman they both loved so deeply.

There was a low growl. He froze, knowing that the growl hadn't come from a bear, but it seemed too deep to be a mountain lion. When he had turned, the cat he saw was at least three times the size it should have been. He knew it was much too large, and his mind had drifted to a story his grandfather had told him. A story that the old man had learned from William's father—William had never met his father, but his mother and grandfather spoke fondly of the Pueblo man. William had doubts that his grandfather told the story true to his father's words, but he knew little, if anything, of his Pueblo family and their ways. The story his grandfather told was about Hell beasts, and while the beasts came in various animal forms, the most common was that of a cat. A massive cat, like the one that stood in front of him in that moment, larger than any animal he'd ever encountered before.

William had thrown his day's haul to the beast in hopes that the cat would rather occupy itself with an easy meal. He stepped back, and the cat stepped forward, completely ignoring the dead animals at its feet. He had turned and ran for his life.

Pulling himself from his thoughts, William glanced around, taking his surroundings in better than before. He remembered the beast had bitten him, but he wondered how and why it had not taken his life? Also, how did he end up on a bed of straw?

Something cracked to his left. He turned his head so quickly toward the direction of the noise that he'd pulled something in his neck, causing him to wince and reach up with his hand to rub the area. In the split second before his eyes snapped closed from the pain, he saw a boy. The boy was short, skinny, and underfed. His nearly-black hair framed a honey-colored face that was sunken in and held dark blue eyes. The boy was naked, and the bones of his ribs, shoulders, and knees pushed sickeningly from underneath his tan skin.

William's hand moved from the back of his bony neck around to his face, feeling the sunken sockets of his eyes before opening them. The boy he'd swore he'd seen was no longer there, but William was more concerned with the fact that the boy he'd seen was him. William had only ever seen his reflection in the water of the river, the Rio Chama, but there was no doubt in his mind that the boy looked exactly like him.

“Good to see that you're awake,” a woman's voice said behind him.

William touched his chest, feeling to make sure it was covered. Though the boy he'd seen had been naked, he was not. He turned to see the woman who'd spoken. Her skin—a few shades darker than his—was covered modestly with a deerskin dress. Her light brown hair and light green eyes were striking, and William's breath caught.

“Well, boy, do you speak?”