Cock N Bull

The icy wind of winter circled the Wenge Inn like a predator waiting in the shadows, its prey in sight. A man entered the Inn. Rubbing his frozen hands together for warmth, the low chatter, flickering lanterns, and faraway fireplace settled him at once, no longer fearing or thinking of the elements that threatened the outside world. Ordering a pint of the house special from the wide-eyed barman, he purchased a room, looking to stay the night on his travel into the promise of business in the local village.

Taking his rest by the open fireplace, the crack of the fire lulled his body into an almost trance state. Fire was funny in that way, thought the man; it commanded to be watched- perhaps it was the light of it that drew human’s attention or perhaps because it remained as old as time that the respect of attention came guaranteed. Lost in his thoughts, the man didn't notice the hooded figure that took the vacant seat opposite him.

'Cold outside, ain't it?' The hooded figure asked the deep draw of an unseen man hid under the black coverings.

'Quite.' The man answered, trying to find his face.

A calloused and scarred hand shot out from the sleeve, shaking it within his own the man couldn't help but feel the sting of the thick wormlike scars peppered across the dry skin like it was more reptilian in nature than human.

'Care for a tale while you wait?' The stranger asked.

'A tale?'

'A story, my lad, one to pass the time?'

'I am a bit spent after today; I might retire to-.'

'I promise it will be worth your time.'

'Okay then, let's hear it.'

'Ahh.' The stranger rubbed his thumb and forefinger together as if to conjure up two coins for his bare fingers. 'This tale requires but a small price.'

'Other than my time, that is?' The man joked.

'Other than that, yes, a drink to wet my throat and some food for my empty stomach?'

The man tried to look into the hood once more, trying to find a face, a sea of black stared back at him. The man's scarred hands sat neatly in his lap, like a snake ready to pounce. He imagined the man grinning back at him under the cover of his hood.

'Certainly, I think that's a fair trade.'

Returning from the bar with a house pint and a steaming plate of herring stew with bread and cheese. Watching the man eat sated Porter's curiosity without the need for the story. With each handful of food lifted upwards, it disappeared into the darkness of the hood. With no sound of chewing or swallowing, like it simply vanished from this world and into the stranger's own. Draining his glass, the stranger rested his empty cutlery on the Inn's floor.

'Now.' Slapping his hands together, in beat with the crack of the fireplace, the stranger began his story.

Sarcoline sat perched on her father's lap, watching the almost circus act of the animals brought in for auction. Round and round, they were led, from the whispers and sometimes yell of approval from the townsfolk. Having left their friends and life behind for a new one, Sarcoline begged her father for a new pet- seeing as she was so lonely on the land and rusted house he had bought. Agreeing if she promised to help with the ploughing and seeding of the land. With each suggested farm animal, from a donkey to pig, to chicken, Sarcoline simply shook her head, telling her father she wanted something unusual. Her wish came in the form of a shock of brown muscle.

'Up next, number forty-four, we have an infertile bull for sale. Bidding starting at sixty.'

Leaping from her father's lap Sarcoline ran to the temporary fencing that paraded the animals; the bull bucked and tugged- a huff of power clouded his eyes. Sticking her arm inside the cage, Sarcoline's father ran from the stands, but it was too late- the bull bound at the flailing object. Silence rippled through the crowd; some cowered away, sure a mess of blood and mangled bone would be all that would be left of the small girl. Instead, another noise took its place. A noise that no one would have expected. A laugh, full of joy, rung instead. The bull's long curve tongue licked the girl's arm, nudging her as if he wasn't a tonne beast but a barn cat. Drawing closer Sarcoline examined the great creature, the great draw of his breaths, the muscle that lined his body, and the thick crescent scar that hung under his right eye.

'I want him, Dad, please.'

The villagers' attention landed on the girl; some couldn't help but smile- others fanned their faces trying to get the colour of shock out of their bodies.

'Wouldn't you be happier with something a bit more? Smaller?' Her father asked, taking in the bull's size.

'No. I want him. Trust me- and I'll help you with the fields, I promise.'

The bull looked from the girl to the father as if he understood the exchange they were having. 'Well, we'll just have to see what he goes for, okay?'

'Okay.' Sarcoline smiled, reaching her hand back through for another lick that left her giggling.

'Ahem, yes, okay, well let's get back to bidding, shall we? Sixty do I hear sixty?'

Caroline's father raised his hand. 'Right here.'

'Wonderful, gentlemen at the front, do I hear sixty-five?'

'Sixty-five.' A voice boomed. The crowd turned towards the noise, Sarcoline took in the lump of a man that stood at the back of the wooden bleachers- having not bothered to change for the auction, a smear of blood trailed across his white apron, a thin toothpick skated across his brown teeth. Flashing an uneven smile at Sarcoline, he rubbed his meaty hands together.

'Sarcoline, I can't really go much higher -.'

'But Dad, he'll kill him. 'Please, Dad. Please.' Tears welled at the corners of her eyes, the bull leaned in closer to the railing- seeming to know Sarcoline's distress.

Running out onto the porch, Sarcoline's mother Sara couldn't help a chuckle from escaping her mouth. 'Oh, Colin, what has she made you do this time?'

Sitting atop the bull, her daughter gave her a small wave. 'This is my new pet. Dad bought him for me at the auction. Don't you just love him, mother?'

'Well, love is a strange word for a beast like that.'

'What a lovely name; I think I'll call him that. Come on, Beast, let's go eat some grass.'

Sitting on the porch as their daughter sat on the back of the bull, Sara shook her head at the image before her, 'How much exactly did this bull cost us?'

Colin shook his head, a slight smile on his face. 'Enough to keep him out of the slaughterhouse.'

'So too much then?'

Looking at one another, both of them burst into laughter; their daughter had brought home a bull as a pet.

Sarcoline kept her promise, rising with the sun every morning to dig and retiring to the house at night when her shadow grew its own patch of darkness. Day in day out, without complaint and with Beast comfortably by her side, she worked- until their land was seeded for the coming crops.

Connection, like all things, remained one of those unexplainable things; Beast seemed to understand Sarcoline, and Sarcoline seemed to understand him. Their only time apart being when her father insisted he needed to sleep in the barn and not beside her bed. When Sarcoline found herself waking in the middle of the night, fear gripping her dreams, she would go to the barn; on more than one occasion, her parents had woken her in the morning- curled against Beast's side.

That season was the last of somewhat normalcy on their land and in their new town. Once the other farmers waited for sprouts to grow, all that stared back at them was empty dirt. Meanwhile, the land Beast walked with his new friend grew, flourished, being the only green crop for miles. It didn't take long for gossip to turn to cursing and cursing to turn into a mob. Trying to get the bull to walk their lands in the dead of night, he bucked and impaled two people with his large horns- running off into the cover of the forest. Colin fired his rifle twice into the air, making the mob second-guess going after him. But amongst the chaos, no one had noticed Sarcoline dart off into the forest in search of her friend.

'What happened to the girl?' The stranger asked.

'Sarcoline never returned; her father covered every inch of that forest- vanished without a trace.'

'A body?'

The hooded figure leaned in closer to the man. 'Some say they see a girl with a beast by her side- wandering inside the cover of the forest. Others say they've called for her, but she never turns. Never answers. Some say she isn't of this world. Some go looking and never see her. Some can't go near the forest cause that's all they see, a girl walking with her best friend.'

'And what happened to the land? The crops?'

'To this day, the only land worth buying is that property; everything for miles is dead, except one chunk of green among the rubble. The town itself has become somewhat of a tale in itself, some say witchcraft, others superstition.'

'So, you've been to this town then, I take it?'

'Yes, I used to live there.'

The man sunk back in his chair, letting the story wash over him. 'Well, thank you, kind sir, for the story. I think it's time for me to retire to my room.'

'Of course.'

Standing, the man held onto the back of his chair, staring into the fire. 'I wonder though if she ever found him?'

The question passed in silence as the stranger watched the man climb the stairs up to his waiting room. Returning his gaze to the fire, a flicker of light cast across his cheek. Warming the deep scar under his eye in the cut of a crescent. 'We found one another.'