There are some things in life that, despite knowing better, draw us in with an irresistible curiosity. Like a moth drawn to light, metal filings drawn to a magnet, they pull us closer. And even when we know they might be dangerous, we can't help but be entranced.
The Wildebeast with the doves entrances Aurora in the way that is both fascinating and terrifying at the same time. She is perplexed by the beast's strange behaviour, and intrigued to figure out what it could mean. Every part of her better judgement tells her to stay as far away as she can. The memories of the past are still too raw, too tender. But the next day, while out scavenging for food, she finds herself creeping in the direction of the clearing. She holds back in the trees, crouching down and hidden from sight. Through a few cracks in the tree cover, there is a view of the clearing.
As expected, the Wildebeast is there again. And so are the doves. Aurora hangs back, watching with astonishment like a young child seeing snow fall for the very first time. The doves are well-trained ballerinas, hopping about gracefully. And the Wildebeast watches them, sitting very still, blinking slowly every now and then.
Aurora doesn't know how to read Wildebeast emotions - it is a foreign language to her. In all honesty, she thought Wildebeast only had one emotion: the desire to hunt and kill. This new emotion that the Wildebeast is showing perplexes her. When she asks herself why the doves aren't dead yet, she comes up blank. For the next two days she returns and watches their strange interaction; how the doves seem completely at ease with a giant beast near, and the Wildebeast almost seems to be...helping them?
As she crouches there, as quiet as a still winter night, the Wildebeast raises to its feet and enters the woods at the opposite side to Aurora. The doves remain where they were. She pauses for a few minutes, wondering where the beast has gone and why. Just as she is about to turn and go back to the den, convinced that the beast won't be coming back, it reappears in the clearing.
In its huge hands it carries a bundle of berries, nuts and roots. Just the sight of such a banquet makes Aurora's stomach reverberate like a miniature earthquake. She watches with eyes on stalks as the beast tosses a few of the nuts down for the doves.
But it doesn't stop at the doves. The lumbering animal keeps walking, taking slow, gentle steps with its legs that are the size of small tree trunks. It's coming in Aurora's direction.
She frowns, puzzled. The beast never looked her way, and she never made so much as a sound. Could it know she is here?
Five hefty steps later, there is no room left for doubt. Aurora's head and stomach are at war with each other; one wants to flee, the other is desperate for the food that the Wildebeast brings closer every passing second. It is not a fair fight, though. One side is armed with a full cavalry of agonising memories of Elwen, the other side is just a rumbling tummy. And while rumbling tummies can sometimes be a formidable force, in this case they are no match for the warning ringing loud and clear in her mind.
Aurora springs to her feet and dashes away from the Wildebeast as if it were chasing her with barred teeth and claws outstretched. She never thinks to - never wants to - look back. No, she doesn't dare stop until safely back in her den.
But if she had...
If she had looked back, she would've seen something that surprised her.
The Wildebeast crouches down and places its bounty of food next to her hiding place. Then it moves away again, returning to its usual spot next to the group of three doves.
The food sits there, looking as tempting and delicious as any meal ever did. It really is one of the greatest crimes in the world when perfectly good food is not appreciated or eaten by anyone. But sadly for us, Aurora is long gone.
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