Mary curled into a ball, shielding herself from the creature's barbs. She covered her ears and closed her eyes, blocking out the gory sounds and the horrific sight of the killing. Moments later, she felt her body being nudged. The beast was pushing at her with its nose. She rolled over and looked up into its white eyes. "I'm fine. But we're going to have to work on your table manners." The beast purred and stretched out on the ground next to her, resting its head between its forelegs. There was a brilliant flash of light and then Rhage appeared in the same position.
The excerpt paints a vivid picture of a moment filled with tension, vulnerability, and an unlikely bond. Mary’s instinct to curl up and shield herself highlights her initial fear and instinct for self-protection in the face of a formidable creature. Yet, the scene quickly shifts from chaos to quiet understanding with the beast's gentle nudging and the affection implied by its purring and relaxed posture. This behavior challenges typical perceptions of predators or monsters as purely violent beings; instead, it humanizes or softens these entities, suggesting complexity and depth in their nature. The humorous comment about table manners adds a touch of levity, indicating a relationship built on mutual respect and perhaps an underlying unpredictability. The appearance of Rhage at the end signifies a return to order or realization, reminding us that beneath the beastly exterior may lie a protector or guardian. Overall, this scene exemplifies themes of trust, transformation, and unlikely compassion, prompting reflection on perceptions of strength and gentleness, and the idea that even beings perceived as terrifying can hold untold depths of kindness. The narrative invites us to reconsider our fears and biases, opening us up to the possibility of harmony between seemingly opposite qualities—a lesson relevant to both characters and readers alike.
