Page 44 of Tenebrous

The creature's jaw tightens in genuine frustration. One massive hand lifts and presses firmly against its own chest. “Orion.”

I stare lengthily, unsure of what it's saying. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

It repeats the gesture. “Orion.” Then points to me. “Human.”

Realization dawns on me slowly, shock jolting through my system like an electric current. “Is that… you have a name?”

I don't know why that surprises me so much, maybe because I'd never stopped to consider that this thing might have one. Or that it ever needed one. “Then, what are you?”

The creature's brows knit together again. It—or maybe he—looks puzzled by the question. Slowly, it lowers its hand from its chest and searches my face as though trying to understand what I'm asking. “I… I am Orion.”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I mean, what are you, if you aren't human?”

Another long silence follows. For the first time since I laid eyes on it, the creature appears... uncertain. Its gaze drifts toward the mouth of the cave, then to the mountain above us before settling back on me. “I do not know.”

“You don't know what your species is?”

“Humans have called me many names. Beast. Devil. Demon.” Each word sounds dull and practiced. “I am none.”

The conviction in its voice chases away whatever sarcastic remark sat on the tip of my tongue.

“You don't have…” I hesitate, growing more confused by the second. “There's no word for yourself?”

“Orion.”

My fingers chord through my hair, disbelief clouding my thoughts. Does it truly not know where it came from? Why it exists? What its purpose is?

“Is there no one else here but you?” I murmur to myself.

The creature answers me anyway. “I have not found another.”

Those words sound matter-of-fact but somehow, beneath them lies a sense of loneliness so profound that it momentarily eclipses my own. Not sure how I can sense it, but I do.

For reasons I can't explain, calling the thing a monster now suddenly feels... inaccurate. Wrong.

That thought wedges itself beneath my ribs like a splinter, and I hate it. Hate that my brain has decided to sympathize with this eight-foot carnivore who killed my uncle and tried to feed me human flesh.

Maybe it's a survival instinct. Either that, or I got a concussion when I fell into the bone pit earlier. It's also possible that the infection from my gunshot wound is scrambling my brain and I'm going rabid.

But somehow… Names have an irritating way of making things seem human.

Tightening the fur around my shoulders, I wrench my attention away, choosing to focus on the fire instead of my own racing heart. After a long stretch of silence, I finally croak out a response. “Well, whatever you are, you sure know how to skin a moose.”

A deep rumble rolls through the creature's chest as it turns away. Not quite a growl but not a huff either.

And for the first time since waking up in this underground cavern, I catch myself wondering if something like an Orion would know how to laugh.

Chapter

Seventeen

Orion

Carrying strips of meat to the fire, my thoughts still buzz with questions that my human could not seem to answer.

“Monsters don't know what love is,” he'd said. And love is a word I have not heard in many a long winter. Not since I was young and these tunnels were fresh. It sparks a… a memory, I suppose, but one I cannot grasp onto. Voices dance around the edge of my mind like will-o-the-wisps, elusive as mist.

Still lost with confusion, I lower the meat onto a flat stone beside the flames exactly as the human had instructed. Not directly in the fire, but beside it, which does not make much sense to me. The smell changes almost immediately.