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Author's Chapter Notes:
This came into being from an intense love for Disney's Beauty and the Beast. Also, it came from the understanding of the orkish race by a very special author. She knows who she is. :) She planted a baby plot bunny in my head and it grew and grew.

Anywho, I don't own anything except for Vanya.
Vanya stood over the black hulk that lay unconcious in the new hay of the barn. She pinched her nose and breathed through her mouth because the smell that radiated off of it was nausiating. That was when she noticed the blood. It had stained the hay around the thing's abdomen. She bent down and got a better look at it. It seemed that there was a long slash that still leaked dark blood. She gasped, then choked on the thick stench. She ran out of the barn.

She searched for a bucket and an old rag. "I don't know what that thing is, but it's hurt." And her deceased mother had always told her that the right thing to do when any living being was in need was to help. She filled the bucket with water and some hand-made soap. "It needs a bath to get rid of that odor and prevent the wound from getting infected."

She brought it back along with a knife to cut away the fabric to bare the skin. She entered the barn and set to work. The work was hard and she was very close to vomiting several times because of the blood and the smell. The water was murky with dirt halfway through and she had to change it and wring out the rag.

Finally, she was finished and the..thing was clean. She pulled a needle from the pincoushin that she always carried around with her and plucked a hair from the tail of the pony that was grazing outside. She could now begin the tedious work of stitching the cut closed. As soon as that was done, she got up and stretched.

The beast hadn't even stirred when she'd poked and pulled at it's belly. She feared for a second that it could be dead, but she saw a faint rising of its chest and was assured.

A cold wind blew and she shivered, rubbing furiously at her arms. A glance at the thing on the floor and she bit her lip. Picking up a tattered blanket, she threw it over the wounded beast to try to keep it warm. Then she scooped up armfuls of hay and tucked them around it to ensure that the cold would not reach it. Satisfied with herself, she left the barn, the puzzle of exactly what she'd found nagging at her mind.

Her father stomped his boots free of snow and took them off at the door. Delicious smells wafted their way from the kitchen and he grinned. "Vanya, is that roast pork I smell?"

She smiled as she brought it out and presented it to her loving father. "Good evening, daddy. How was town?"

"Slushy." He deadpanned. "I did get a good deal on a new plow, though. Only twenty silver pieces." His eyes narrowed as he saw her only picking at her food. "Is something wrong, dear?" He asked a tad suspiciously.

"Oh, nothing." She told him quietly. "A trifle. I accidently burned the bread, is all." She forced a smile. "I wish I were a better cook."

He reached over and patted her hand. "You're good enough for me." She nodded absently as he returned to his food, but her gaze was focused on the window, through which she could make out the dark shape of the barn in the distance.
Chapter End Notes:
Just for reference, Vanya means beauty. That is in compliance with the story's Belle.
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