The Not-So-Glorious Tale of the Mottled Beast (Creature Short Story for School)

People of all different shapes and sizes were stumbling in and out of the dimly lit tavern, the only place still alive with laughter and chatter so deep into the night. A lantern was swinging ominously by a frequent patron of the bar. They were usually quiet and kept to themselves, and others avoided them. Near the mysterious figure was the loudest group, yelling and shouting about the greatest and fiercest creatures they’ve come upon and slayed, broadcasting their great achievements across the whole bar. The man and the bartender exchanged glances with each other as the bartender slid them a drink across the counter and leaned over, setting their elbow on the solid wood, “They have been coming around more frequently, if you are disturbed by them at all, I can have you be moved to a more private room upon request.”
“It is fine, thank you,” he went on to explain, “I do enjoy hearing the tales the younger generation has to tell. Some are more laughable than others, but some bring me a semblance of joy.”
“Ah, suit yourself then,” the bartender leaned away to help the others, “The offer will always be there if you ever change your mind.”
The alcoholic nodded and sipped at their drink, wincing, still not used to the bitter taste after so many years. Then, there were words that caught their ear, one of the younger adventurers began describing the common tale of the beast in a forest next to the village, “...the ominous talons have been heard scraping against the river rocks, it is said if you hear them, you’ll never be heard from again, never to tell the tale.”
“Well then how would people have shared the story?” contested another, “The suggestion that no one makes it back is contradictory, ticks me off.”
Someone elbowed him, “That’s what makes it so fun! You always ruin it with your technical fancy, you know? Stop being such a spoilsport.”
The figure let the young adventurers squabble for a little while longer before deciding to jump in, “You know, I’ve met that creature before, not as frightening as the legends say. Brave adventurers, like yourselves, just don’t want to admit what they’ve been bested by.”
The group that was previously boisterous went quiet suddenly. Except for the one who was telling the story previously, who burst out laughing, “Oh c’mon, you expect us to believe that? We barely even know you! No one knows you. This could just be a farce someone put you up to, huh?”
The man pondered for a moment, then said loud enough for the whole bar to hear, “How about this, one round for one story? Sounds fair enough, right?”
Everyone whooped and cheered throughout the bar, dragging stools to surround the figure while the storyteller just sat back and grumbled, having their spotlight stolen. The bartender began passing out the drinks after the figure nodded to them. Everyone leaned in as the man began…

“For many decades, hundreds of adventurers have explored the deep woods near this small town. Searching for some kind of fabled beast, some kind of heroic legend to bring back to their small town. Some kind of title to bring them honor. And for many decades, all those adventurers have failed. Coming to this small tavern to weave more lies into the web of the great legend of the Mottled Beast.
One of those adventurers was just simply seeking respite, seeking comfort. They wandered aimlessly for many moons, just trying to pass the time. Occasionally, they would find a clearing, set up camp, and sleep. During these restless nights they would hear the soft whooshing of wings gliding through the wind. Talons landing on branches, soft plops to the ground, and a shuffling of leaves. These sounds were most common along river banks and in dense clearings spotted with colorful wildflowers, where the forest was most alive.
This adventurer decided to investigate one night, setting up a small trap, knowing the animal could be no bigger than a fox and it moved quickly and quietly, as if timid. They had decided to set it up next to the riverbank, with their encampment just inside the trees, and pretended to fall asleep.
That was when it struck. A tree branch could be heard rustling, and then the loud SNAP! of the trap closing shut. A quiet yowling sound could be heard for a few hundred yards up and down the riverbank. The adventurer quickly left where they were hiding and dashed to the trap, not wanting to prolong the creature's suffering.
When the adventurer got to the trap, they did a double take. The great beast of legend was just a small, winged cat, its sharp talons were pawing at the trap helplessly, yowling. Once it saw the adventurer, its jailer, it growled and moved as far away from them as possible. The adventurer began slowly moving towards the trap, showing their palms, showing they had no intention of hurting the beast. Once they released the mechanism, the door fell open, the creature dashed into the night sky.
It didn’t get very far before crashing into the woods, injured. The adventurer cautiously approached where it was, assessing the situation. By dawn they had all the necessary materials and began to approach the creature once more, who had made a makeshift nest in the fallen leaves. They began working on tending to the creature, since it was their fault it got injured in the first place.
After those short interactions, the adventurer would occasionally hear the creature sniffing around their encampment. So, they decided to start leaving scraps outside and observed the creature, seeing its reaction. This only further enticed the creature and they began becoming more and more comfortable with the adventurer, coming up right outside of their camp some nights.
Then, the adventurer was feeling watched one day while they were once again walking aimlessly. Whenever they glanced behind them, a shadow would quickly disappear. Now, the creature was becoming more brave, more tenacious. So, wanting to see where this would go, the adventurer started leaving their tent open, inviting the creature in. One night, they heard a faint rustle and then felt air by their feet, as if something was sniffing at them. Then a soft thump was heard.
This became a common theme, the adventurer and the creature gradually grew into acquaintances of sorts. Finding food for each other and finding companionship within one another, helping to ease their loneliness. Until the creature was fully healed, then, it flew away into the night, the adventurer never hearing them again. The adventurer had found what they were seeking, and soon after that night, the adventurer found their way out of the woods and into their local town, rarely ever leaving again.”
Laughter busted out of the crowd, many thinking the story to be false and just a ridiculous tale from a madman. The figure smiled, knowing that the creature was still safe under their great legend, and even if someone else saw it, they would never have been believed.