Welcome to Beauty’s Beast, book 3 in the Black Trans Fairy Tales series. This novella is releasing one chapter/week on the blog ahead of publication.

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The sprawling mountain forest enveloped the castle on all sides, so when Quinn shouldered the front door open for the first time in years, a pile of twigs, leaves, and dirt scraped across the stone walk. Belle stood in the doorway as Quinn pressed the massive doors open to either side, their long, strong arms spanning the entire gap across like a casual stretch when getting out of bed.

Fresh mountain air tumbled into the abandoned atrium. It kicked up dust and pushed the stuffiness back. Madam Armoire shuffled front one window to the next, throwing the curtains back and singing a tune to herself as the sun streamed into the castle. A small parade of staff-as-household-objects came marching into the room from every direction: a mantle clock, a feather duster, an entire tea set like a mother with children, and trailing behind them like a conductor, Lumière waving his candlestick hands in time to Madam Armoire’s song.

Like a well-orchestrated team, the staff began cleaning the entryway in earnest. Drop cloths were pulled off of lounges, dust and debris swept right out the front door. Every window that could be opened was flung wide. Even the crystal chandelier was given a refresh when Madam Armoire threw the feather duster up so they could go to work.

Belle stepped up next to Quinn and smiled. It was good some of the castle was getting attention again.
She turned her face into the forest breeze and felt it run through the scrubby whiskers on her chin. She stroked the beginnings of a beard as she realized she hadn’t seen any mirrors in the castle. She must look as wild as Quinn. Both of them covered in a mane and flung far from polite society.

Then again, a woman growing a beard was the least strange thing in this household. And now that she thought about it, Belle hadn’t been self-conscious about her growing facial hair for the past few days. She stroked the beard coming in on her jaw and wondered what Gaston would think of her now. Belle smiled at the shocked expression she could imagine on his face.

Quinn looked down at her, their antlers dappling the sunlight overhead, and bared their fangs. Belle heard a rumbling purr vibrate out of their chest and she took Quinn by the hand, claws and all.

Before she could say a word, her father stumbled into the room, still pulling on his jacket and trailing one shoe, huffing and puffing from his lingering injuries. “I hope you haven’t left without me,” he said straighting the jacket with a yank. Someone in the house had repaired the slash across the front where Gaston had attacked. Several teacups scuttled over to tie his shoes while he caught his breath. “I’ll have you know it’s good for the injured to get out and walk in the sun. Very rehabilitating.”

“We wouldn’t go without you,” Belle said, reaching out to her father to draw him closer. “How are you feeling?”

“A little cooped up. It’ll be nice to stretch my legs.”

Belle smiled and pulled them both out into the sun.

Leaves crunched under her shoes and Quinn’s hooves.

If there had once been a cobble path up to the castle doors it was now overgrown with grasses and small bushes. The edge of the forest came right up to the castle walls, spreading up onto balconies with creeping finger vines.

Quinn hesitated and Belle stopped with them, breathing deep to enjoy the perfumed forest air. How long had it been since Quinn stepped outside these doors and really wandered the forest? Other than the courtyard on the other side of the castle, Belle had never seen them outside of the walls themselves, and that courtyard meeting had been all too brief.

Belle had found Quinn hiding away in the arboretum of the castle, not even visiting the dining room. If they told her they’d been hiding there since the witch came and cursed them, she’d believe it.

She looked up. Quinn stared out at the forest like it might eat them. She squeezed their hand and they started, looking down at her again.

“We don’t have to go,” Belle said.

They stared at her for a long time, then stared out at the forest again, dark eyes penetrating the dappled shade. Then they nodded once, to themselves, Belle thought, and stepped forward.

Their first steps were slow and cautious. Silent on the forest floor. But every step gained a little confidence. Every breath came a little faster.

Until Quinn broke away from Belle and her father, diving into the forest on all fours, loping between the trees like a massive deer crossed with a lion. A predator with antlers. Quinn dashed through the forest, picking up speed with every stride, used a tree to spring in a new direction, and bounded to the top of a rocky dome in three massive leaps. They towered overhead, rose up on their legs, and roared.

The birds of the forest took wing, screaming. Every small critter dashed for cover. A deer and her sisters scrambled away from the reverberating sound.

Belle stood at the bottom of the rocky slope with her father, threw both hands in the air, and whooped. Her father hollered with her. They danced around each other, yelling and laughing until Belle collapsed in a pile of leaves to catch her breath.

Quinn’s claws scraped the rock as they scrambled back down. Their eyes were bright and their ears perked up. They looked alive in a new way. Brimming with curiosity and energy. Like her father said, sunlight was good for healing. They signed, “There is a river nearby. Come.”

Belle took Quinn’s clawed hand and pulled herself up. Her hair was full of leaves and she laughed as she shook it out. What was a romp in the woods if you didn’t come home with a few sticks?

She took her father’s hand and Quinn lead the way on all fours, trotting along as comfortably as on two.
Quinn occasionally sniffed the air and adjusted their path. Belle took deep breaths of fresh forest air, but she couldn’t smell whatever it was Quinn followed.

In short order, the trees broke against a rock ledge through which a slow river had broken in the middle. The sun had already warmed the flat stones of the bank and Belle pressed her hands against the heat with a happy groan.

Quinn forged directly into the river. They splashed into the center, which was just deep enough for them to dunk their head and roll about like a river otter. Air bubbled out of their fur and when they surged back onto the stony bank, they brought half the river with them in a rush.

Quinn eyed Belle’s father with a gleam in their eye. Maurice had crept up to feel the water at the edge, now perched beside a dripping and feisty Quinn. Quinn planted their feet and hands firmly on the stone, caught Belle’s eye, and shook.

Belle gasped at the huge spray of water that arced out of Quinn’s fur and caught her father in the side. It sent him sprawling in surprise right onto his butt. She laughed, delighted at the shock on his face.

Her father scrambled on the stone, but with so much water, he had no grip. He went splashing right into the river with a shout.

Quinn casually reached in and grabbed Maruice by the back of his shirt. They deposited him back on the rocks away from shore like a sputtering cat.

Belle giggled. Her father flicked water off his hands, blinking owlishly at Quinn. Then said, “Well. That was refreshing.”

Quinn made a low chuffing noise, sort of a rumbling cough.

Laughter.

Belle knelt beside her father and pushed his soaked hair out of his face with a smile. “It’s time to retwist your locs,” she said. “When we get back home.”

Quinn shook themselves off at the edge of the river, no longer in danger of sending anyone else into the water, then joined Belle and her father in the sun with another one of those purring rumbles that came out of their chest.

“You could use some braids too,” Belle said, pushing mane hair out of Quinn’s eyes with one hand. Would you like some?”

Quinn nodded their fist yes and Belle tucked her legs under her as she leaned on Quinn’s shoulder to finger-brush the tangles out of their mane. Leaves and twigs had found their way in, just like with her own hair, and she patiently picked them all out, comforted by the vibrating purr from Quinn’s chest.

Belle’s father groaned comfortably as he lay out on the stone. “It’s lovely out here,” he said.

Belle hummed her agreement. “I miss Lukas and his bookshop,” she said. “But this adventure is just like the ones in my books.”

Maruice made an agreeable sound. “Maybe Lukas can come visit one day.”

“There are more books I need to buy from him,” Belle said.

And wouldn’t it be lovely to set aside a room in the castle for a small library of adventure stories?
She hummed as she braided Quinn’s mane, imagining life at the castle for longer than a few weeks, and smiled at images she dreamed up in the forest sun.