The beast did not hesitate as he approached them. He understood survival required certain actions. His mother understood this as well. It was likely why she had neglected him. She had others to care for and herself to protect. She could not gamble her survival and that of her children on a single child, that she believed would not survive.
What followed was both beautiful and poetic. The scraps that had sustained him could not compare to the soft, meaty flesh of his siblings. He felt no regret; he was merely acting to survive. Yet how wondrous the taste was. Even if he did not need to eat to live, he would still have indulged in that incredible flavor. It was unlike any of the scraps he had consumed already in his short life.
The taste of their blood filled his mouth, that salty liquid flowing down his throat as he devoured. Their viscera lodged between his teeth as he tore into them, the tender tissue gracing his tongue as he feasted.
His other siblings could not yet walk. They merely watched, too young to comprehend that they, too, would likely be slaughtered. Their only means of escape was crawling, and even then, he would catch them without much of any effort.
The beast sat amidst the bodies of his siblings, his form drenched in their blood. For the first time in his life, he was not hungry. He was satiated—at least for a little while. The remnants of their delicious, salty blood lingered in his mouth, and his stomach felt warm with their flesh.
Even having been starved and underfed, he had still managed to grow faster than his siblings. Yet, he realized he had not reached his full potential. In the weeks that followed his feast, he experienced a remarkable growth spurt, achieving in mere weeks what would normally take a year. It became clear he was different from the others; he was special, chosen to survive. Whether by divine will or some other force, he had known from the moment of his birth that he would endure, and that resolve had never waned.
By now, his body must have resembled the size of that of an eight or nine-year-old in human years as he lingered in that cave. After a few weeks, he resolved to leave. Though he was missing an arm and a leg, his existence within those dark confines would be short-lived, and hunger was beginning to claw at him anew.
As he took his first unsteady steps outside, the beast was greeted by an overwhelming brightness. The brilliant sphere in the sky blinded him, as he had known only the dim walls of the cave for all his life. For the first thirty minutes outdoors, he found himself looking down, shielding his eyes from the harsh light. But despite that, everything was breathtaking. The warmth against his skin, the lively sounds within the forest, the trees, and the wind brushing against him—it was all so new.
He had not fathomed that life could be this magnificent. The last time he had experienced something was when he feasted upon his siblings, a rewarding act in its own right. Now, he craved everything life had to offer. With every step taken, he reveled in the sensation of earth beneath his foot and wood against his fingers as he leaned on the trees for support. The experience was unlike anything he had ever known, igniting a desire to make up for the time lost in the horrid cave, shackled by neglect. He longed to feel alive once more, as he had at birth.
He would soon submerge himself in the flowing water of the river. The sensation of the cool liquid against his skin was yet another delightful experience that filled him with indescribable joy. He delighted in every moment.
While frolicking in the river, the beast's eye caught sight of something approaching—multiple figures drawing nearer. They bore a vague resemblance to his mother, although they were much shorter, and were lacking some of her more primal features, and were adorned in strange clothing.
They shouted in an unfamiliar language as they neared him. Yet that same look of disgust remained etched on their faces, just as his mother had shown towards him. Her face flashed beneath his eyes. He would not forget that face. That face of disgust.
They did not want him to survive; that much was clear. But he would.
The process came naturally to him. With a focused intent, fueled by emotion and hate, he instinctively executed his ability. As one of them drew close, the man suddenly had a large, fleshy mouth attached to his head, chomping it cleanly off. The others rapidly followed suit. He need not move; the power within him acted as an extension of his will. It was not dissimilar to how one would focus and unfocus their eyes. It simply just came to him.
The beast held no regard for these men; they were mere echoes of his siblings and mother. They wished for his demise and to strip him of the new experiences he had just started to savor. Thus, whether they lived or perished mattered little to him.
Feeling no guilt at all, he indulged in their flesh just as he had with his siblings. Their entrails were shredded by his sharp teeth, crimson blood cascading down his body.
He could barely contain himself. The taste of such flesh, while not quite as heavenly as the first feast, nevertheless captivated him.