That time

Insects fluttered and leaped in all directions as Grendel wandered in the tall grassland. An arm peppered with tiny cuts carefully reached out for the largest plants, ripped them from the ground in great handfuls, hauled them to the big pile the other arm held. At what seemed like the seventh one, he almost fell on his back. These were more rooted than he thought. With a low groan, Grendel pulled once again with all his strength. It worked, chunks of soil flying loose along with the prize. A dry crack followed, and the squamataur gritted his teeth. He was not in a good mood.

It was the time of moulting. Had to happen sooner or later, Grendel told himself. His scales were scarred and worn down, they wouldn’t have taken more punishment at this rate. He had gone through this every year as far as he could remember. His body would cast off the damaged skin, revitalize him, make him all ready for the world again. The problem was, this took a handful of days at best. It was so slow, and peeling the skin himself stung quite a bit. Everywhere he went he’d leave dry flakes in his path, every movement would make him creak like a dry branch. And that made it much harder for Grendel to get food.

But worse than all of that, was the itching. Dear gods the itching. Like hundreds of invisible claws tearing at him all day, all the time. Scratching didn’t work, submerging in water didn’t work. Even the mud didn’t work. It didn’t let him relax, didn’t let him hunt, not even sleep a whole night. And that made Grendel sour, very, very sour.

He was now trekking down the plains, his arms forming a basket for the great lump of grass. A while ago he dug a burrow in a nearby slope, intending to settle there for a while. It was the best choice that came to mind, to simply rest and hide away from trouble until the shedding finished. However he didn’t find it comfortable enough, and had to leave it for a while to gather plants to cushion the ground. Hopefully this would be enough.

A growing, rumbling sound caught his attention as he approached his den. Horses, an enormous herd of them, were running in his direction and making a thunderous mess of hooves and terrified wails. Many changed their direction and circled around as soon as they saw Grendel. He simply snorted and looked at them go, annoyed. On any other day he would have chased after them, would have gladly swept them as they dashed close to his tail and would have scooped up the fallen delicacies. But he couldn’t bother with that now. In fact, all the noise they made just made him feel angrier. Shaking his head, he continued onwards.

It did made him wonder, thought….what had scared those horses so much?

The answer was clear upon reaching his destination.

There was a giant in there. Maybe eighty or ninety feet tall, with matted hair and splotchy, dirty skin. He seemed to Grendel like an adolescent, but one with a rather bulky build, a bear of an individual. No clothes whatsoever. He sat contentedly on the grass and had several horses in his hands, all of them still whining as he leisurely gobbled them up.

And he was right in front of his burrow.

Grendel immediately snapped at this. In a blink he dropped the grasses and stomped towards the intruder, grunting in anger. Itch increasing on every movement

“You!!! That’s my den there!! Leave!!!”

The giant was quick to notice him and took even less to adopt a defensive stance, standing almost ape-like. Certainly Grendel must’ve been intimidating, this ragged hulk lumbering about with barely-contained rage in his eyes

“No way, I found it first!!! You can’t force me out!!” He yelled, deep and equally angry voice

“I dug that burrow myself!! It’s mine!! Not yours!! Mine!!! Now buzz off!!” Grendel replied, never taking his sight away from him, muscles shaking and ready for the attack.

“Finders keepers, chump!!! Got anything wrong with that???”

“GET OUT!!!!” The squamataur insisted, and stomped the ground hard with both front legs.

The giant gave a stomp on his own and then stood up. A challenge. Both titans started circling each other, if still keeping a safe distance. Tail waved in the air, knuckles cracked, low rumbling growls. Grendel started to foam at the mouth, increasingly frustrated. Even at this, the itching wouldn’t leave him.

“You don’t want to do this, chump” The giant threatened, pointing a finger at Grendel “I have strong magic here!”


“I’m not going to repeat this…” Grendel said, clearly ignoring what his rival just said “Get out of here. Right. NOW!!!!!!!!”

Intense cold hit the squamataur as soon as he had pronounced that word. Ice magic! The giant was casting a fairly large blizzard on him, hail and ice crystals and biting cold energy blasting away at Grendel without a truce, growing ever stronger with it. He was forced to step back

“HAH!!!! HOW ABOUT THAT, PANSY???”

Grendel could barely see in the frozen assault. Raising his arms in front of his face did little against it. All before him was white and blue and flashes of the giant’s grinning, confident mug. He was losing feeling on his limbs. The tauric half was specially suffering from this. Cold…..so horribly cold….

The itching was still there

He was losing his sight, and it was there

He couldn’t feel a thing, and yet the horrible itch still wouldn’t leave

Itchy. So itchy.

Itchy and cold.

Itchy and cold and mad.

Mad. Mad. MAD.

“RRRRRRAAAAAARRRGH!!!!!!”

Grendel didn’t know where he got that strength, but it was there. And he jumped.

Reached through the cruel blizzard as he leaped and saw the giant again, whose face was now contorting into surprise and sheer horror

He landed on him, sending them both to the ground in a brutal blow.

He punched and punched and punched. Flying blood. Broken teeth. Arms that weren’t his flailing and struggling to break free.

Slobbering maw snapped shut on the giant’s neck

Kicks and gasps and pushing and clawing and punches and ragged screams, but he dug his teeth deeper and deeper.

A sudden motion of his head, a wet crunch of bone, and the struggle stopped instantly. Arms fell limply.

It was over.

Grendel let go, blood and red saliva pouring down his chin, and then bellowed at the skies. Perhaps in triumph, or perhaps to vent what remained of his wrath. But as he panted audibly to regain his breath his face changed again, and his eyes widened.

Holy HELL did it itch now. Grendel found himself dropping to the ground, clawing madly at his tauric half. He twisted and scratched, rolled and writhed, kicked and squirmed. Maddening, it was absolutely maddening. His mind was filled with the images of maggots crawling under skin, swarming ants burrowing through flesh, raging fires licking and spreading. He hissed and retched and whined, but no relief would come. Teeth were gritted so hard they could almost snap at any time, beginning of tears building up in Grendel’s eyes.

Stop….stop already…..please….


Suddenly, a popping sound and an even louder ripping.

And then it ceased.

The old skin had sectioned itself right down the central area, and now laid on the sides of Grendel’s body in two almost perfect, if ragged, halves. Struggling with the giant had loosened it up, and that last burst of energy was enough to finish it off. At last exposed to the outside was the squamataur’s revitalized hide, shiny ink-black scales with orange mottling all over, all fresh and clean.

And the rage and distress that gnawed at Grendel had vanished in an instant. He felt great! Better than great, in fact. He felt NEW! He shook away the moult that still clung to his legs, and stretched out lazily. Now this was something else! How glad he was that this was over already. He’d almost swear it took longer with every passing year.

Of course, he already knew how this went. Sooner or later it would be that time again, and with it that awful itching would return. He would be back to feeling horrible and irate all the time, back to struggling for somewhere that was quiet and peaceful, and he knew too well how nigh-impossible that was. What a bother…

But that thought didn’t last long. Shedding always took a great deal of energy, and Grendel had really used a lot this time. He looked down at the now-dead giant in front of him. Flies had already begun to gather on his torn-open throat. Too big to swallow whole, but there was enough meat for the rest of the day.

Looking around briefly for scavengers, Grendel grabbed the carcass by the arms and slowly started dragging it inside the burrow. It didn’t matter to him that this little peace wouldn’t last, or that he probably wouldn’t have the luck to get a meal this big again.

There’ll be another time for that. For now, he had a stomach to bloat.