Un castor entre nosotros

“Damn!” Blake Baxter, age 29, cheered on the underage captain of his parents’ yacht.

His younger brother, Brett, age 16, had downed yet another bottle of german lager within seconds.

“Careful, bro, at this rate, you’re going to drown before we get back to the dock.” Blake laughed.

“I’m a great swimmer.” Brett slurred his reply and both chuckled as the party roared.

Below deck, Blake entertained high-status heirs and pop culture icons, whilst Brett manned the ship’s steering. 

Within two hours of departing, the yacht would be reported missing by the lumber moguls, Brenda and Bill Baxter, who were nearly at their wit’s end with their ill-behaved children. The inexperienced and unqualified captain would have been wise to heed the half-warning of his brother.

He realized this as a burp turned into much, much more. Hunched over, his hand landed on the touchpad of the yacht’s advanced steering. The ship immediately hooked a right turn, slamming into the seawall they were far too close to. In a blaze of fire, it sank with all but one passenger inside.

Three weeks passed before Blake Baxter awoke.

On the shore of a river, Blake was surrounded by a colony of beavers, all staring at him. He lifted his head and looked all around, seeing nothing but the furry critters.

Three more weeks passed before Blake Baxter awoke.

Trees were rocking steadily out of Blake’s view as his eyes opened. He was in motion. Was it all a dream? Had he imagined the crash and the beavers? It was clear this was no yacht. Blake laid on the tail of a beaver much larger than any human he’d ever seen. But then he remembered Shaq.

Three more weeks passed before Blake Baxter awoke.

“Damn.” Baxter exclaimed upon realizing that fainting would not remedy his predicament. Deep within the woods, within a cave of twigs, Blake was approached by the massive beaver who carried him.

“Why am I here?” Blake questioned the beast.

The beaver stared blankly, then exited the cave. Blake knew this to mean that he must follow, though the beaver meant nothing by it.

He was taken far from the cave, where the giant beaver drank from the river. Blake noticed the water was a strange, murky yellow. It was obvious that chemical runoff had caused this beaver’s growth. The beaver again looked blankly at Blake. Blake took this to mean that he would also have to drink from the river.

The beaver wondered why Blake was still there.

Blake Baxter went to cup some water by the giant beaver, which became territorial. As Blake knelt and sipped from his hands, he was bit in the back. His spine was snapped like a twig.

Three weeks passed before Blake Baxter awoke.

Blake rose from a twig-bed, not with his legs, but with a new, girthy tail. He felt powerful, slapping his new appendage against the ground twice and crumbling the twig cave with the force.

Blake reached for a nearby fish left by the beaver colony and tore it apart with massive dagger-like fingers.

Blake Baxter knew his old life was over, for he was now… Beaver Claw.

His mission was simple. Find out who brewed the beer that made Brett vomit, and avenge the death of his brother. And tell them that over 2,000 other people definitely died on that yacht too.