“It must be a curse. We shouldn’t feed it.” The man said, staring at the squalling infant. It looked like a normal child, with the exception of the dark circles that ringed his eyes and the white hair that crowned the infant’s head. 

“How could you say such a thing? You don’t know that.” The woman hissed, holding the newborn close. 

The man’s jaw tightened, staring the woman down for a long moment before he relented. “Fine, do as you will. But that thing will be our damnation..” He sighed.

The woman spat a few curses at the male for his words until he’d dissappeared out of sight outside.

As the infant became a boy he was an inquisitive but reserved child, showing little interest for affection. The boy spent most of his time catching reptiles, amphibians, and bugs. Using sticks and sharp rocks to open them up and examine their insides for hours on end. Though his father did not care for his company, the boy was tolerated as he would silently watch the man clean his kill from his hunts. Sometimes the man was less tolerant, growing tired of the boy’s silent staring would pick up a rock and hurl it in the boy’s direction. Eventually the boy learned to watch from vantage points he couldn’t be seen, crouched low in tall grass or perched high in the branches of a tree.

The boys mother had grown cold as the years passed as well, beginning to believe the boys father’s ominous words. The boy had never once shown affection despite her gentleness, and when she would attempt to do so the dark eyed boy would only stare back at her blankly. As time went on she grew bitter, resenting the boy’s presence. Cursing at him if he found himself in her way. 

One day, when the boy had become a teen he decided he wanted to see something. He waited until his father had disappeared far out of sight into the forest before leaving their home as well, searching the field until he found the largest rock he thought he could carry up a tree. Taking the rock and making his way over to the gap in the trees his father always emerged from. The lanky teen scrambled up a tree with his rock. Climbing out on a limb and trying to measure the distance as he shimmied out over the path. He held the rock out and dropped it, watching where and how fast it fell before scrambling back down the tree.

He practiced this several times until he was confident in his positioning, climbing the tree one final time and waiting. Hours later when his arms and legs ached from balancing in the tree the teen’s patience was rewarded as his father came down the path with a few wildfowl in hand. When the moment was right the teen opened his hands and let the rock fall. The corner of the teen’s mouth quirking upward when the rock found its mark with a crunchy thud.

Hours later the boy returned with ample amounts of freshly cleaned meat, presenting it to his mother proudly. The woman stared at her son, a wary look in her eyes as she regarded him. “Where is your father?” She asked. 

“He’s gone. We don’t need him anymore. I can get meat, see?” The teen held the mix of fowl and unexplained meat a little higher as though if she just looked close enough she could see his reasoning. 

“You’ve killed him… YOU’VE KILLED HIM YOU CURSED BEAST! DEVIL! MONSTER!” The woman shrieked, needing no further convincing of what her son had done by his emotionless response. She snatched up a stone blade and threw herself at her son, screaming her grief and fury. He threw the meat at her as she lunged, scrambling for balance as she tried to stab at him. He clawed to get a hold of the blade, his blood slick hands slipping but eventually after sustaining a few gashes he pried it from her hands, swiping it at her stomach. Soft flesh gave way to sharp stone and the woman was left clutching at her insides as the began to spill out.

He backed up with the blade in hand, watching her struggle as she collapsed and thrashed, screaming curses at him. He stayed where he was, watching wifh the same blank expression as the life bled out of her, her voice growing quiet and her movements slowing and eventually stilling. When there was silence he set about cleaning the carcass with neat precision.

He would stay there in their home in the field until the meat ran out, and then he wandered and hunted at random. In time the nameless teen who’d been known only as a curse had become a man. He’d learned magic, developed a particular fasination for consuming the tongue and sometimes eyes of his victims, and had stolen a name. Ansel Wagner.