I hunt by day, but it’s not the priestess’s fault; I asked to be free of the night curse, but not to be free. She observed my mistake, and as those in the dark arts often do, mocked me for it.
Her mother cursed us to hunt by night. It seemed to be the right thing to do at the time, but it only escalated the war between us and the land dwellers.
In her defense, she only wanted to protect us by having us protect ourselves, because we were a staple to the economy. The land dwellers hunted us for our skin to make their clothing, and our meat to sustain their families.
No one knows if one of us went to the priestess, or if she came to us, but either way the curse was made.
I would have you understand that we did not start this war. The land dwellers would hunt us at night, lanterns bobbing and swinging through the willows, and we’d flee before their guns, but the curse turned the tables.
The priestess made it so we could not only stand, but run, and because we looked so very much like our surroundings, especially in the darkness, the land-dwellers were easy prey. We skinned them, as they did us. We ate them, as they did us.
The blood slicked the mossy waters, and the willows wept indeed, alongside the spirits of those who hunted us.
We’d smile, and by day, we’d walk on fours once more.
In time, the land dwellers, having so many who did not return, came in waves and took us in large numbers by daylight, when we were helpless in our true forms. We did what we could to decimate them within the confines of our reptilian bodies, but they gained the advantage of numbers over time.
The priestess did not account for that, but every spell has its imperfections….
But I survived, and sought her descendant, hearing she was stronger in the dark arts, and entreated her to free me of the night curse. My plan was to run and hide, and seek a quieter place.
There are no quiet places, she told me. But I will help you…
And so, I hunt by day.
But it’s not the priestess’s fault.