This story begins, as many often do, with a boy.

John Lambton was heir to his father's estate in County Durham. Servants bowed as he crossed the courtyard, and no one stopped him when he ignored the chapel bell for the second Sunday running. His father might command the estate, but John had never learned that commands applied to him as well. Consequently, he often rebelled against common courtesy and the expectations of how a son of a lord should conduct themselves. So for the second week in a row John decided to go fishing and took himself off to the nearby River Wear. 

Unfortunately, he had plenty of time for contemplation as the fish, strangely, were not biting that day. The River Wear moved as though it had grown tired. Not a ripple broke its dark surface. Even the reeds along the bank hung motionless, and the usual chatter of birds had disappeared into the trees. After some time his gaze drifted and he struggled to keep his eyelids from drooping. So, he decided to pack up and head for home. Just then there was a tug on his line, short, sharp and strong. John jumped to his feet and began to pull up his line. He was anticipating that it would be a sizable fish, and after what seemed like hours John could see a shape writhing at the end of his line. He gave one last almighty tug and breaking the surface of the water was his prize. As John held up ‘his prize’ he was astonished that a) he had struggled so much to land it, and, b) it was not a fish at all. It was as long as his arm at least, but it wasn’t an eel, not one John had ever seen. It was rather thin and had a substantial head which was taken up mostly by a wide mouth full of sharp looking teeth. The line trembled in his hands. The creature stopped thrashing altogether and lifted its head. Tiny black eyes fixed on his face. Then its mouth opened impossibly wide, revealing rows of needle teeth, and a hiss spilled out like water poured onto hot iron. 

John staggered back slightly until his legs were pressed up against the old stone well adjacent to the river. 

As he stared at the creature he noticed that nine holes opened and closed along each side of its head. 

Gills, John guessed,

Its long body tapered into a wide flat tail that would presumably propel it through the water. The skin of the creature was covered in scales that shimmered iridescent hues of blue and black as they caught the light.

 However, the scales were slightly raised and rough, not smooth like a fish, and ended in a point, interlaced so they covered the entire creature from its snarling mouth to its swiping tail.

John held the creature at arm's length and grimaced.

"You're no trout," he thought

He prodded one scale with his thumb. It was as hard as old leather.

He pulled a face thinking "Ugly thing."

Without another thought he swung it behind him and flung it into the old well.

 He collected his things and headed for home. No doubt he would get in trouble for not attending church but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before. By the time the manor house came into view above the trees, John was thinking only of what excuse might soften his father's temper. 

He had failed to notice, however, a black-hooded figure in the tree line at the bend in the river watching him, and the interaction with the creature he threw in the well. The figure watched John until he was out of sight then lowered its head, as though mourning something already set in motion. 

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 As is often the way, time passes and young boys grow up. Waywardness and hobbies of their youth often give way to other more “grown up” activities. John grew taller, broader in the shoulders, and less inclined to spend Sundays with a fishing rod. Before long the River Wear gave way to distant shores, and the boy who had ignored church bells was carrying a sword beneath foreign skies. Now, don't go thinking the Crusades knocked all the pride out of him. Oh no. Some lessons are the slowest to learn, and John Lambton still walked through the world as though it owed him a favour. 

While John was learning the ways of war beneath foreign skies, something else was growing beneath the stones of an old Durham well, and since that day by the river, John never spent a single moment thinking about the creature thrown into the well. 

The creature…

 …however…

….did not forget John.

 It did spend some time in the well, forgotten and discarded, but it did not stay there.And soon the villagers and the surrounding countryside came to know the creature as well.

For some time after being unceremoniously dumped in the well, the creature, Riress, was shocked at the outcome of being hauled out of her watery haven then thrown away like she was an old mutton bone only fit for the hounds.She snapped irritably at a passing frog, missed completely, and sulked even harder. 

Initially Riress nursed her sore mouth, silently cursing to herself the misfortune at being in this predicament. But being a resourceful creature, she turned her mind to how to get out of the well. How indeed! For while the walls were hewn from rough stones, they were very high for a little water creature who also did not have any legs yet. They were yet to grow. So, for now Riress just had to wait and bide her time. She would normally have gone through her development in the river but a well would have to do for now. 

Sunlight drifted across the mouth of the well until it disappeared earlier each day. Leaves spiralled down into her prison. Frost edged the stones. Rain filled the well until she floated near the surface before it slowly sank again,  and still Riress waited, tucked into a small hole in the rocks of the well. She fed on small animals, insects and anything unfortunate enough to fall in. The rest of the time she focussed her energy into growing. 

As the heady summer days turned to cold blustery autumn, Riress uncurled herself from her rocky home and stretched. The well had become very cramped, she needed to leave. 

She admired her adolescent body, pleased at how the scales shimmered as the water ran off them. 

She marvelled at the length of her little claws that even now looked sharp as razor blades. 

As she shook herself water droplets flew off and fell into the bottom of the well like rain. 

A smile grew across her face, a smile full of sharp teeth, a smile that would make mothers grab their children close and young couples run for home in horror. Riress had grown, she was now about as big as a large dog, but that was as far as the similarity ended. The flat rough scales that John had found so intriguing were now hardened. The iridescent blues were still there but the black had almost taken over her entire being, as she moved the waves of colour shimmered across her body in what she thought was a very pleasing manner. 

She grinned again and purred, loose stones and gravel fell as they were dislodged by the vibrations, the water rippled as dust fell like icing sugar. It was the kind of noise that you feel through your body, a deep rumble from the bowels of the earth. 

As the purr faded she stretched out from her rocky home and reached up to the rough stones. Digging her claws into the crevices she tentatively tried to see if they would take her weight. 

Taking a breath, then another, 

she took a step,

few more slow and deliberate steps,

A stone shifted under her weight,

She paused,

Nothing fell.

As the feeling of new strength flowed into her muscles, slowly and steadily, she inched her way upwards, the fresh air tasted delicious as she leaned towards the moment of her freedom, until finally she stood at the top of the well. 

Somewhere deep within the trees, woodland creatures ran for cover.

The wicked smile played across her lips, as she stretched fully, luxuriating in the feeling of having space. 

She looked down at herself, the long thin child had filled out across the mid-section and hips, and the new legs would become more muscled in time. Her tail was magnificent, as she stretched out the large fan at the end she half jumped half slithered off the edge of the well,  Moving over to the riverbank she peered at her reflection in the water. 

Her head was still quite broad, some extra scales above her eyes had hardened, sticking up in such a fashion that it almost looked like a crown, 

she turned her head left.

Then right

Oh yes,

She looked magnificent.

Her eyes were the same colour as her scales, at first glance the impression was that of pools of black ink, however, when she moved her head, they flashed with shades of blue which she found very pleasing. 

The reflection broke apart as raindrops touched the water. 

Riress dragged her gaze away from herself and looked up to the darkening sky, a storm was rolling in over the forest and she thought it rather fitting. 

Now here's something worth knowing. Folk use the word wyrm for almost anything long, scaled, and unpleasant. They shouldn't. Riress was a Wyvern, and Wyverns, if you were foolish enough to call one a mere worm, were deeply offended by the comparison. Wyverns can be vain, in fact they have a propensity for it which often led to their downfall. 

As the first rumble of thunder could be heard in the distance, 

She listened,

Then answered.

It wasn’t a large or even impressive noise and she was actually glad that there wasn’t anyone around to hear it. 

She shook herself,

stretched out her short front legs that were fused to the membrane of her wings,

shook herself a third time, 

stretched her neck up into the air, and as the third and loudest rumble of thunder sounded over the forest she roared, proclaiming, 

I am here, 

I have arrived, 

I am coming.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The village of Bournmoor lay within the estate of the Earl of Lambton.

 It was this village that used the well down by the River Wear, and for many years it was quite a pleasant walk from the end of the village road and down to the well to collect water. However, one winter that feeling changed forever. At first the villagers didn’t know what had happened, there was a peculiar atmosphere by the well as though the trees themselves were watching you. It was no longer the best fishing spot on the river, in fact the river itself seemed devoid of life. The trees of the surrounding forest were mysteriously silent, no birds, no insects, no noise of any kind. Even the wind appeared to avoid that section of the forest. As that first winter progressed; it was a hard one, heavy frosts, snow and biting winds. Farmers reported a high number of livestock deaths and even disappearances. It started with Mrs Fitgerald’s chickens. Her hen house was decimated one Sunday morning when everyone was in church. The local men stood around the wrecked hen house muttering, hands on hips, offering various theories and sucking on their teeth. 

The general opinion was a fox, but surely a fox could not inflict the damage seen here. 

The roof … was missing.

Splintered beams hung like broken ribs.  

Feathers clung to the hawthorn hedge fifty feet away. 

Never had any of the villagers seen anything like it, the men shook their heads and wandered away from the carnage muttering about bad omens. 

And a bad omen it was, as the worst winter the village had seen for many a year swept into the area.  Many of the sheep farmers lost more winter lambs than they had before. Cows wandered into the farmyard with injured backs raked with claw marks, and cats and dogs in the village began to disappear. Towns and villages further afield were not affected, and those who had somewhere else to go waited for a break in the weather to move their families away as curses and evil doings monopolised the local gossip mongers . All in hushed tones you understand, as you never knew who, or what, was listening. As the winter chill faded into a blustery and wet spring many of the villagers settled into their lives looking over their shoulders on dark evenings. Mothers brought their children inside from playing long before dusk dropped and no-one stayed out after dark if they could help it. 

Spring flowed into Summer, the sun came out and the warmth and sunshine bolstered everyone's nerves. Children were once again playing in the streets and the oppressive feeling of the last few months dissipated as the season chased away what winter had deposited at their doorsteps. 

Young Mary Ingman was watching her siblings argue and fight in the garden as she pegged out the washing. She knew what the fight was about but she didn’t intervene. It was Arthur’s turn to fetch the water from the well, but as usual he was bullying his younger sisters to do it instead. Mary was the eldest of six and at almost fourteen years old was always given the lion's share of the chores. So, when Ma came out of the cottage, broke up the fight, and asked her to go get the water, she gave a small quiet laugh and shook her head, grabbed a couple of wooden pails. Giving Arthur a light slap on the back of his head she set off through the village; swinging the empty pails as she walked. Eric Fuller from two doors down looked up from helping his Da fix Mrs Hitchin’s cart as Mary passed. 

Eric liked Mary.

Everyone knew that.

Their parents knew it too.

In fact, if you'd asked the village women, they'd probably have told you the wedding was only a matter of time.

The only problem was no-one had asked Mary.

Mary didn’t like Eric. At all. Just the thought of him made her skin crawl. As she made her way to the end of the village road leading to the river, she couldn’t help feeling that there must be something else in the world beyond marriage and babies. 

It was an enjoyable walk, and Mary sang lightly to herself as she walked, bees hummed and birds sang in the sun, as a gentle breeze ruffled her hair. 

As she rounded the bend in the road that led to the well the trees seemed to lean a little closer towards her, the green of the leaves looking slightly darker, almost black in the shade, her singing faltered. 

The humming stopped so suddenly Mary noticed it before she understood it. One moment bees drifted among the foxgloves. The next there was only silence. 

Mary’s steps slowed, she looked back the way she had come, took a deep breath and hesitantly moved towards the well. Even slower Mary placed the pails on the ground; leaned forward and looked down into the dark hole of the well. 

She waited for the familiar glimmer of water.

Nothing.

The darkness seemed to go on forever.

During the spring there had been a severe rainstorm that flooded the river and caused the well  to overflow. Only today Mary could not see anything in the blackness, but somehow that made it seem more ominous. 

She bent down to pick up the first pail as something caught her eye at the edge of the tree line and she froze, pail suspended in the air. A movement of something circling around a tree trunk, dark as the shadows of the forest. She swallowed and blinked a couple of times because it must have been a trick of the light. It looked nearly as big as the trunk of the tree it was coiled around. She slowly and mechanically hooked the pail onto the metal hook and lowered the pail without taking her eyes away from the tree line. Her breath caught in her throat, just then she thought she saw something in the trees. 

Just a glint of something… 

…blue…

…black… 

…like a dark jewel twinkling in the gloom. 

Her grip on the rope was so tight her fingers ached as she bent down to swap one pail for another, just for a second she took her eyes off the treeline, just for a second, but a second is all it took. 

There was a rush of wind that blew her off her feet, 

…jaws snapping…

…a creature that nightmares are made of. 

A scream caught in her throat as she could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears. As Mary fell backwards the empty water pail she had grabbed flew in the air and smashed the creature square in the face. Mary pumped her legs against the ground to propel herself backwards. She stared in horror as it climbed across the top of the well, broken stones falling all around. It reared back on its legs, wings wide, as its mouth slowly gaped for the final strike, Mary, eyes darting around to find an escape route finally her hand found a rock and as her fingers closed around it, she threw it as hard as she could.

 The rock hit the creature in the mouth. As it roared in pain and anger, Mary was already moving, the momentary paralysis broken she was running home as fast her shaking legs could carry her, as she ran she heard screaming, her throat was burning before she realised the sound was coming from her. She didn’t stop until she was nearing her garden gate.  The commotion had roused almost everyone in the village. 

They had no idea what was coming… 

…but it was… 

…just the beginning. 

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From this moment forward, things became much… much worse. 

I wish I could tell you that Riress did not get a taste for human flesh but unfortunately that would be a lie. The first to go was Tommy Robinson. As the warm light spilled out from the pub doorway, he staggered in the general direction of home still singing disjointedly until he found himself face down on the nice soft grass verge. As the ale ferried him into the land of nod, a shadow passed overhead and blocked out the moon. He was 100 yards away from his front door.

There were others picked off here and there, but then one day things escalated significantly. 

Malcom Turner was bringing his cows into the village on his way to market; he could be seen walking behind them with a switch and his trusty dog Rufus nipping at the heels of the stragglers. The sun was behind him, and he could feel the heat on the back of his neck. In the distance he could just make out the sign of the Lambton Arms, his mouth was dry from the walk and he was looking forward to “whetting his whistle” on the way back from market, and maybe even one of the landlord’s pies. 

Malcolm looked down, Rufus was facing back the way they had come,

He stopped.

The growl came first.

Then a shadow.

Malcom looked up  and saw two enormous, clawed feet speeding towards him. He threw himself down on top of the protesting Rufus and waited for the blow to strike. It never came. But two of Malcolm’s best bullocks were caught up and carried away, one in each clawed grasp, still bellowing as they disappeared high into the sky and out of sight. Rufus started to run after the retreating monster, Malcolm sat breathing heavily and shaking. The remaining cows were running towards the village as if they too were gasping for a pint from the pub, Rufus was not far behind. Malcolm cursed and started to run. 

Fred the landlord had come out of the pub, as had other villagers to see what all the ruckus was about. Cows were lowing all over the high street, Rufus was barking and trying to herd the reluctant cows into some sort of small group outside the pub. Malcolm came puffing and panting up to Fred by the pub doorway. He was red in the face and shaking his head. He was just about to ask Fred for a brandy but before he could get any words out there was a crash on the roof and a half eaten cow carcass and broken roof tiles came tumbling down into the street. The monstrous creature was perched on top of the pub, its enormous talons dislodging tiles. With its wings spread  it roared, head pointing directly into the air. 

The villagers ran for cover leaving the terrified cows fleeing in all directions. Fred pulled Malcolm under the eaves of the front door as the monster used the carcass in her grip as a club, and began to smash the other cows in the street, picking up others and dropping them from height, catapulting them into gates and garden walls. 

Mary appeared around the corner of her cottage to see the carnage that had become the main street. This was the first time Mary had seen the creature since that day by the well, her heart pounding as she moved  into the street, she couldn’t help but marvel at the ferocity that it was wrecking on the unfortunate herd of cows. 

Then she saw Rufus, he was pressing his back into the remains of a wall, staying as low to the ground as possible. Mary was surprised to realise she was not afraid. Not for herself anyway. Her heart went out to Rufus. She started to move towards him as the beast dropped to the street directly in front of her. 

The creature narrowed its eyes as it growled, showing its smile. Mary took another step forwards and realised she was now within grabbing distance. She swallowed, her mouth dry, unclenched her fists and slowly walked over to Rufus. As Mary reached the poor trembling dog, he crawled on his belly towards her, the beast cocked its head to one side and watched.  Mary gently caressed Rufus and speaking soothing words  she cast a glance at the creature, slipped her hands under Rufus’ body and scooped him up into her arms. She began to walk away, then nodded her head in thanks, as she carried on walking back to her cottage door. 

Silence. No one moved.

Then the monster swung its head around the street making eye contact with whoever was still standing and growled, its lips curling over wicked teeth. Then as quick as a flash grabbing a cow torso in her mouth, other dead and dying cows in razor sharp talons, as many as she could hold and with a single flap of her wings lifted into the clouds and out of sight.

Clearing the high street was an arduous task. Any bovine remains were piled up at the end of the road just outside of the village. By the next morning, they had all gone, not a trace left to be seen. Malcolm was reunited with Rufus, all his injuries bandaged, and Mary was thanked profusely for her daring rescue, although she realised that some people were keeping their distance from her, glancing away as she approached, this included Eric, so Mary didn’t think this was a totally bad thing. 

By the next day a village meeting was set up, and the Earl of Lambton’s steward and grounds keeper were invited to discuss how to move forward. Of course, the villagers were angry, and the steward and game keeper took the brunt of it. The amount of devastation the creature was inflicting upon them was unsustainable, and while Malcolm was promised recompense for the loss of his cattle, something more permanent needed to be done. Through the agitation a new voice was heard. The crowd parted, children hid behind their mother’s skirts, men stepped back and women made the sign of the cross, as the old woman who lived in the woods was seen moving purposefully forward, leaning heavily on her staff. 

The villagers shot nervous glances at each other and mutterings of “witch” could be heard, but the woman paid no heed. In a surprisingly strong voice she suggested that the creature may be reasoned with and perhaps offerings could be made to appease it. After all she had let Mary and Rufus walk away which showed a certain amount of understanding. 

By the time the clock struck 11am it had been decided, twice a week an offering of either a cow or a couple of sheep would be left  and everyday a pail of milk. When asked who the ‘chosen person’ responsible for delivering the offerings would be, no one said anything, but the old woman simply lifted her face and looked directly at Mary. The eyes were not those of an old person, rheumy or cloudy, they were remarkably clear blue, beautiful, and Mary felt the old woman was looking deep into her soul. She swallowed and shifted her weight from one foot to another but didn’t protest the decision. 

It was decided Mary was to walk the condemned animal to fields north-east of the village, on a good day you could see through a break in the trees a big hill. This hill had become home to the beast now that it was too big to hide in the forest. In fact, it would wrap its sinuous body around the hill itself, moulding the ground into the form of its body. From the village it looked as though the hill had been burned, such was the colour change from vibrant green to black where it lay.  

The first time Mary had to take a cow to the offering place her knees were practically knocking as she walked the last few paces down the lane to the fence post in the field to tie up the cow. The black band around the hill was motionless as she entered the field,She led the hapless cow to the post and tied it on. 

When she looked up, 

The hill was green, 

totally green, 

Mary blinked,

no black stripe to be seen. 

Mary walked backwards as she breathed deeply, trying to push her growing fear down. Turning around she came face to face with the creature. It had been so quiet. Mary’s hands were trembling uncontrollably, she grabbed the folds of her skirt as the monster continued to look at her. Mary gestured behind her to the cow tied to the post. She tried to talk but her mouth was so dry nothing came out. The creature blinked its big black-blue eyes slowly, then lifted a wing to create space for Mary to pass by. Mary bobbed her head and scuttled past under the enormous wing, she heard a frightened bellow from the cow cut short, followed by a crunch. Mary did not look around; she didn’t need to.

The weeks turned to months, and the offerings continued, and although the villagers and crofters knew this was taking a toll on their lively hoods it was better this way for peace of mind. At first Mary really resented the job that had been forced upon her, however, over time her resentment dissipated and turned into a duty, which she began to take some pride in, She had begun to think of the creature as hers, a bit like you do when a stray dog hangs around waiting for you to come home and feed it, but you never really own it. One winter day, Mary was in a bad mood. Her brother Arthur was being obnoxious as usual and Mary took it upon herself to box Arthur’s ears. She was still grumbling about the whole situation when she set off  with a frozen pail of milk, Arthur had deliberately left it out all night to freeze. As she struggled along the road towards the hill her resentment towards Arthur grew and she became more and more angry with each step she took. She was cold, her feet were cold, her nose was running in the chill air, her hands were numb from the frozen pail. As she looked up at the hill, it was empty, no monster coiled around the frosty mound.  Movement caught her eye and as she looked towards the field, there it was waiting for her to arrive. 

This had never happened before. The creature had never been there before her, it always waited until she was in the field before uncoiling itself from the hilly abode, but not today, today was different. Mary lugged the heavy milk pail over the crispy frozen grass of the field towards the offering post. She dropped the frozen pail on the ground and took a couple of steps backwards, folding her arms across her body as she glanced up at the creature, and the creature studied her. As it stretched its snakey neck out towards the frozen milk it snorted and the warm air flowed over Mary. Finding herself a little irritated without knowing completely why, Mary sighed herself and gestured towards the pail with a woolly mittened hand, “Gan on then”. 

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Riress had woken this morning with sore muscles and her warm breath visible in the early morning light. The frost that had formed over her scales crackled as she moved. She took off over the fields and through the clouds to find some warmth from an early morning sun. As she flew she tried to piece together why she felt so out of sorts today. It felt like something was just out of her reach but she couldn’t quite work out what it was. 

She dipped down through the clouds and felt the temperature drop significantly. Frowning, she looked down towards the woods and saw a cloaked figure moving slowly across a clearing. She recognised the old woman, she had seen her before, watching Riress from the trees. Riress circled once, dropping further down, and circled again, watching the old woman standing still. She gently landed in the clearing, folded her wings and waited. The old woman approached until she stood unhesitatingly in front of Riress, lips pursed in thought, her gnarled hands resting on her staff. Riress waited.

“Ye dinae belong here. Ye should ne’re been spawn’d” she paused before continuing, “It’ll end badly, na doot aboot it, an the’s nothin you nor I can dae to stop it pet”. 

She stepped forward…

and patted Riress on the nose.

“Jus don’t let anything bad happen te the bonny lassie” then looking deep into Riress’ eyes, she nodded. “Nah pet, I don’t think you will eh?” And with that she turned and began to walk away.

These were the first words anyone had ever said directly to Riress, she didn’t understand the words so much as felt the meaning behind them. Shaking off the resulting melancholy she took flight again and circled around the wood towards the offering field.She hadn’t been there long before the girl arrived and for the second time that day Riress found herself being addressed, but this time she was a little bemused. Particularly because the little human seemed to be annoyed. At her. Riress was not sure why the frozen milk was her problem, but she bent her neck again and gently nudged the pail towards the girl. Over the months Riress had come to look forward to the daily visits of the little human and seeing her only connection to the human world looking, if anything a bit angry, at her, was puzzling. 

Mary looked from the pail to the creature and shook her head, 

“I'm shore yee can dee it yoorsel”, but she picked up a nearby rock and began hitting the frozen top of the milk. 

Riress chuckled, although to Mary it sounded like she was making a gurgling sound. 

Mary stopped what she was doing and looked up directly into Riress’ face that was unnervingly close to hers. 

Riress smiled, not really sure what was happening Mary took an involuntary step backwards, and Riress laughed again. 

This time it was Mary’s turn to look puzzled, “are ye laughin at us?” 

Riress continued to gurgle,  “ye are aren't yee, yoor laughing at us. Wey de it yoorsel.” 

Mary dropped the rock and walked away to lean against the wall of the field, legs crossed at the ankles and arms folded, with her head cocked to one side. Riress bent her head down to the pail again, and with a wink broke the ice with one swift movement of her teeth. Mary laughed a little herself, shifting her weight she tentatively walked back over as Riress drank daintily from the pail. With one quick look at the sharp teeth, she gently put out her finger to touch the beautiful shimmering scales of the creature’s neck.

Then her whole hand, the scales were warm.

Riress paused drinking for a second, then continued as Mary continued to stroke the hard scales of the massive sinuous neck. She could feel the power vibrating within that could be unleashed at a moment's notice. 

Riress gently moved her head to face Mary; and blinked twice.Mary relaxed her shoulders and moved her hand to the wide area between Riress’ eyes and slowly rubbed up and down on the smaller scales. Riress began to purr, or rumble, and her eyes slowly closed as she lost herself in the first gentle human interaction she had ever had. Mary smiled and began to quietly sing a little lullaby that she often sang to her younger sisters at bedtime. 

“The sheep’s in the meadow and the kye’s in the corn,
Thou’s ower lang in thy bed, bonny at morn

Thou’s ower lang in thy bed, bonny at morn

Canny at neet, bonny at morn,
Thou’s ower lang in thy bed, bonny at morn.

We’re all laid idle wi’ the keepin’ o’ the bairn;
The lad winnot work and the lass winnot learn.

The birdy’s in the nest and the trout’s in the burn;
Thou hinders thee mother at iverry turn.”

Riress stopped purring and opened her eyes as the clouds parted and the winter sun shone though. Mary wanted so much to disappear into those deep dark pools, to fly over the earth and oceans she had never seen. With a sigh that made her heart ache she broke the bond, stepped back, and allowed the creature to fly away without her.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

There are moments that divide a life into before and after. Mary did not know it yet, but this was one of them. 

It had been many years since John had left the Estate and three years since Mary first had to feed the “worm on the hill”, And as is often the way, she had become very fond of the creature. She still marvelled at the way the sun shone as it caught her wings when she flew, how she would wrinkle her nose up at something she didn’t like, how she would wink at Mary before doing something funny to make her laugh. Mary experienced the animal behind the ferocious exterior. The ‘mysterious being’ that found amusement in small things, was confident but insecure at the same time. The ‘monster’ that was intelligent but impulsive, that bit its lip when thinking, and would purr before going to sleep. Unfortunately not everyone shared Mary's viewpoint. 

When she walked the ‘offerings’ through the village, there was silence, children stopped playing, doors closed and conversations faltered on the lips. She had taken to wearing a long purple cloak her grandmother had made with the hood up so she didn’t see the accusing eyes but she could feel them nonetheless. Mary would call Riress “My Beauty” and would often talk to her either in the field or on the hill until the shadows crept longer over the grass. They both preferred the hill. From there they could look over the estate lands and be totally alone. 

One autumn when Mary was seventeen her mother and father sat her down and told her she needed to look at getting married and settle down. Her mother couldn’t meet her gaze while her father was rubbing his hands on his trousers in agitation. Her parents were concerned that she spent too much time with the monster. Mary on the other hand couldn’t see anything wrong with this. The boys in the village were either oafs, lechers or just plain boring. Her father told her news from the Estate was that the young lord was finally on his way home from overseas and would put a stop to the monster once and for all. Mary took a deep breath, her chest felt tight as though weight had been piled on top of her. She excused herself and went directly to bed. Not that she could sleep. 

In the wee hours just before dawn she quietly got up and dressed then snuck out of the cottage as quietly as possible. Making her way out of the village and along the lane towards the offering field. By the time she got there she felt warm tears stinging her eyes against the coldness of her cheeks as they ran unheeded down her face. She broke into a run heading towards Riress’ hill, but she didn’t get very far before a woosh of air announced that she had come to meet her. Mary looked up into her face and saw that “her Beauty” looked worried.. Somehow, she had sensed Mary’s turmoil and had been concerned enough to seek her out. 

Riress nudged her gently before putting her huge head down on the ground and Mary ran forwards, stopped, and then wrapped her arms around her, tears streaming unbidden down her face. She placed her hands on Riress’ cheek and leaned in against the rough scales of her friend and cried. Riress folded her wings around her face and her small human to keep her warm in the chill of the morning. 

She looked over her wing and saw the old woman standing at the entrance to the field. The woman pulled her hood down, her cheeks were also tear stained. She nodded to Riress as they shared a moment of deeper understanding, then she pulled her hood up and moved away to leave the friends to their embrace. 

When Mary’s sobs had subsided a little, Riress moved back a little and waited. Mary told her that John was coming back to the Estate, she told her she should leave as he was bound to try to kill her. Riress knew that the moment had come, She looked down at Mary and gently nudged her with her nose and snorted warm air over her as she was shivering as the sun began to rise over the horizon. As the mist lifted, the pair of unlikely friends sat on the grass facing the sunrise together in quiet silence, enjoying the closeness of each other and not wanting it to end, neither wanting to move in case it broke the spell that had been woven around them since their first meeting by the well. 

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And so, after years beneath foreign skies, John Lambton crossed once more onto his father's lands. 

The game keeper and the steward wasted no time in talking to him, in particular the rumours John had heard during his travels of a monster stalking his lands. The steward recounted everything he knew including the fate of the young girl whose task it had been to feed the beast. Mary had not been seen since she had left home the previous week, the general assumption was that she was numbered among the dead, victims of the worm. 

Eric had volunteered to take the offerings to the field and tied a cow to the post and left. The cow was still there the following day, and the day after that, so he brought it home again. And the pails of milk were left untouched and turning rancid in the sun. It seemed the beast had moved on. To a certain extent there was a collective sigh of relief at the news. Some believed that it was Mary that kept the beast here, that she had bewitched the creature or the other way around. Mary’s family, even in their grief at her loss, were in some way relieved that it all seemed to be over. 

John took a tour of his Estate with his game keeper and the places the worm had been seen and stood looking up towards the hill from the offering post, hands on hips, flicking his leg with his gloves. As he walked his horse through the village doors were flung open, children ran outside and he spoke to all concerned. They had not seen hide nor hair of the worm for a whole week; they were hopeful that just the mere presence of the Lord had banished the creature for good. 

This unfortunately proved to be just wishful thinking. For no sooner had John gratefully accepted a pint of ale from the landlord a cry rang out from the other end of the village. A man was running towards the small crowd of villagers, shouting and pointing back the way he had come The worm had been spotted, drinking from the river, villagers ran in all directions, mothers grabbing children, doors being slammed shut and pretty soon the small group of people that had been surrounding John had totally disappeared and he was left standing alone in the village with his gamekeeper and their horses. 

The air was silent as they looked towards the end of the village, 

they could see the trees snapping, 

…crack…

Then another…

crack…

as something very big was making its way towards them. 

Then with a huge downward flap of her wings…

the creature appeared above the treetops…

and continued to flap her wings as she looked at the two men in the middle of the village road in front of her. The enormous wings moved almost lazily, with one beat pushing the vast body of the creature in the air. The scales shimmered where the sun caught them, sharp points raised up along the head like broken gravestones, and the eyes, glittering dark opals of hatred peering down at them. John was battle hardened at this point in his life, he had seen his fair share of death and wickedness over the last few years, however, even his breath caught in his throat at his first look at the creature. 

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Riress came closer to the two puny looking men in the village below. Not that she needed to get closer to see that the one in front was the same boy who had caught her all those years ago. Yes, he had grown up, and was now a man, but she knew him instantly. The same tilt of the chin, the eyes that expected obedience, the years between their first meeting and this one had done nothing to lessen that look, Riress would have recognised him anywhere. 

The air from her wings blew dust into John's eyes, he lowered his head, eyes watering and felt a vast shadow fall over him. He looked up blinking as unhurriedly the creature touched the ground in front of him with its feet.

Folding her wings, Riress left enough distance between herself and “the boy” in case she needed room to manoeuvre. The horses stamped their feet and whinnied. John walked a few paces forward, as he got closer, he felt a sense of recognition, the 9 holes along each side of the head of the creature.

One,

Two,

Three,

Until all nine stared back at him.

He gasped as his eyes widened,

The river, 

The well,

A boy,

the memory came flooding back. 

Riress growled loudly showing her teeth, it wasn’t loud, it was deep, like disappointment.

John pulled his sword from his side, as she swung one foot towards the flashing blade. The sword flew from John's hand as though it were made of straw. One claw glanced across his face before Riress had even realised she had touched him. He didn’t feel it at first. John stumbled backwards, his hand flying to his face. Blood seeped between his fingers. He had to let go of the sword as the hilt was snapped away from the blade. 

Riress lowered her head so close to John that he could feel her breath. She looked him in the eyes, a low growl reverberating in her chest. She beat her wings once and lifted into the air, another beat and she was over the horses, she grabbed them both one in each large taloned foot, another beat and she was high above the village and flying out of sight as the horses screams vanished into the sky. 

The game keeper was quaking in his boots as he tried to stop the blood flowing freely from his Lord’s face. John pushed him away as he angrily strode off down the village towards the area that the creature had originally come from and soon was standing between the well and the bend in the river where it all started. As he was wondering how things had come to such a point, he looked up to find his game keeper at his side and staring at the tree line. A movement caught his eye, thinking it was the worm again he half crouched reaching for a sword that was no longer there. But it was a person, hooded and cloaked with a walking staff. As John straightened up the figure moved towards the riverbank almost opposite John and the game keeper. 

“Wye ey m’lord, ye’re m’lord aint ye?” said the figure who now removed her hood to show a grey haired old woman, with hands all gnarled with arthritis. 

John nodded, not sure to who he was speaking to, he seemed to be suddenly struck dumb.

“Ye’re in a canny mess, nae doot aboot it”

John found his voice to ask what business it was of hers. But before he could finish she said,

“Ah well, ah can tell ye how tae tek doon the beast, if ye’re keen tae listen, if the jaws and claws divvent gan yer, she’ll squeeze ya t’death wi her wriggly body”

The gamekeeper took a step forward and told her that they already knew that as they had “eyes in us heeds, hinny”. John shot him a look and the gamekeeper stepped back again. He wanted to ask the woman what he could do to put things right, after all he felt responsible for the creature in the first place. Once again she interrupted him before he could finish.

“Listen well, ye need tae let the worm grab ye and coil herself a roond ye. But first, ye need tae mek yersel a suit o’ armour covered in spikes thick an reet strong, so when she grabs ye they’ll jab reet through her scales tough as they are.”

John wondered how he would get past her ferocious teeth and claws first, but the woman was speaking again.

“Aye, ye can only kill her by choppin off her heed. But heed this, to stop yer family from bein’ cursed for eva for killin something from the netherworld, ye must do in the first livin thing ye clap eyes on after the beast is sorted.”

John said that could be easily done, his gamekeeper offered to sacrifice one of his old hounds for the cause. As John turned back to ask the woman another question, the riverbank was empty, she was gone. But at least John had a plan, cursing the beast for the loss of his horses they began the long walk back.

Hidden on their side of the river in the trees was Mary. She didn’t catch what the old woman was saying, she was too far away, but she knew it couldn’t be good. She had been living in the woods with Riress in the deepest darkest parts for a whole week, avoiding everyone except the old lady. Everyone in the village called her a witch, mothers told their children to stay out of the woods for fear of getting eaten by her. Mary knew that was all rubbish but she had treated the old lady with respect nevertheless. The first time they came upon her, the old lady spoke only to Riress as if Mary didn’t exist. When she did turn toward Mary she told her time was short. Mary wasn’t sure what she meant by that but after witnessing the interaction with the Lord of the Manor, she had a fair idea.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Days passed and Riress had gone back to taking whatever she wanted to eat, apart from humans. In fairness to Mary, Riress decided that she shouldn’t eat any people, it would be terrible if she took any of Mary’s family by mistake. Riress knew that her time here with Mary was coming to an end. Although she wanted to stay, she ultimately knew she had never belonged here in the first place. The woods felt cramped and oppressive leading to a heightened feeling of alienation. She was also very aware that “the boy” would come looking for her soon and she didn’t want Mary to get caught in the ensuing fight, for a fight it will be, she was assured of that. The old woman had visited them a couple of times as if preparing them for what must inevitably happen. This morning Riress had gone out early to hunt, she had been going further and further afield to find food, as she was returning to the woods she dropped through the clouds above the manorhouse. She saw that ‘the boy’ was on the roof with some other people. As she dropped a little lower to get a better view, a bolt of metal flew by her head as a wave of pain spread through her wing, then another hit and another. She tried to gain more height away from the missiles but the holes torn in her membranes made it difficult. As she twisted her body in the direction of the forest another bolt impacted in muscle and tissue over her shoulder, agony exploded through her body, as she roared in anguish. 

Riress landed quite heavily in the clearing, she was breathing hard and grumbling as she tried to turn around to see what was stuck in her shoulder. The membranes of her wings were in tatters; and it looked like a bolt had gone through her wing at an angle and lodged under the edge of her scales near her shoulder. This was what the Lord of Lampton had been up to, crossbows. Mary placed her small hands on Riress’ giant head and laid her forehead down between her eyes. They stayed that way for some time and once Riress was calm, Mary climbed up onto Riress’ back to get a better view and see if she could remove the crossbow bolt. Luckily it had not pierced her flesh very far, the closeness of her scales had halted its path. Mary took the bolt in both hands and pulled; it took a few tries to come free but it eventually slid out much to the relief of them both. Mary bathed the wound and afterwards Riress fell into an uneasy sleep. John was definitely not going to stop until he had killed her, Mary was sure about that. 

She concluded that Riress needed to leave the area but now that her wings had been damaged, that could prove difficult. John would definitely be looking for her now. Thoughts on top of thoughts jumbled around Mary’s head, but with each new plan there was always a flaw, always a way that John could find her. When Riress awoke Mary decided to take her to the river near the clearing, as she thought a good submerging in the water would be helpful for her tattered wings and ease the pain somewhat, and then they could work out what to do next. The trees made her progress difficult but finally they emerged on the riverbank. At Mary’s urging Riress gently lowered herself into the cold water, a sigh issued from her lips as the water soothed the soreness in her body. She submerged herself fully under the slow flowing water and tentatively moved around underwater. Just after she surfaced Mary heard something coming through the trees. Men talking, horses’ tack jangling, as Mary motioned with her hand she dipped below the surface once more without making a splash just in time as the gamekeeper and John came into view making their way through the trees on the riverbank.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

They saw Mary standing there and their conversation stalled. 

The gamekeeper recognised her and told John she was the missing “offerings girl”. Mary raised her chin slightly and folded her arms as John asked her where she had been and if she had seen the worm around the woods. She said nothing, the game keeper, a little annoyed with Mary’s insolence, took three long strides forwards and grabbed Mary by the elbow, admonished her for not speaking up when addressed by the lord. Mary clamped her lips together and pulled her elbow out of his grasp.  She started to walk back into the trees, but John blocked her path. He repeated his question, again Mary didn’t answer. She desperately wanted to take the men away from the riverbank but they were determined to stop her going anywhere. With their backs to the river they could not see the dark form they were seeking rising up from the slow flowing water, but Mary could. Her wings were back against her sinuous body and as she rose up Mary thought she did indeed look like a monstrous worm. 

The water was running down her body and into the river, it sounded like rain. John and the gamekeeper turned to look behind them as Riress emerged fully from the river. The encroaching trees made her seem even bigger than before, she spread her wings and encompassed John's field of vision as her eyes flashed in anger. The keeper started to run back towards the horses that until this moment had been standing quietly by the trees. Riress took a big swipe with her tail; she knocked one horse clear into the river and the other further back into the trees. Continuing to coil her tail she wrapped it around the keeper and after lifting him clear into the air so she could look at him, she squeezed and then plunged him into the water, down he went never to surface again. The horse that had been swept into the river was trying valiantly to swim but unfortunately it was laden with the suit of armour that John had commissioned after speaking to the old lady. The horse was too heavy to fight against the current and it was dragged down to join the keeper in the depths. Mary was screaming at Riress to flee, but John was in her sights now and she had no intention of leaving Mary to his mercy. 

Mary broke free from John's grasp and ran towards Riress, but John intercepted her and grabbed her around the waist and pulled her close to him. As Mary fought to break his grip Riress rose up with a roar and snapped towards John with her jaws, but her taloned feet slipped on the muddy bank of the river. She missed her quarry, and with her body swaying dangerously close to the ground, John loosened his grip on Mary to swing his sword at the exposed wounded shoulder. Riress howled in pain, swung her tail around and knocked John across the clearing. Mary ran for the treeline as Riress placed herself between John and her. All of Mary’s love came tumbling out of her like water over stones in a stream, sobbing uncontrollably, as realisation dawned Riress had no intention of saving herself, but every intention of saving her friend. 

John held his sword in front of him as he circled to his right trying to get close to Riress’ injured shoulder. Blood was flowing freely down her side and her wing hung limp.  Riress closed the distance between them quickly, snapping as John lost his balance on the slick mix of mud and blood underfoot. He wedged the hilt of his sword on the ground as he stumbled and it raked the underside of Riress’s throat as she lunged forward. John recovered and lunged upwards as she jerked her head away, pulling the sword from his grasp. 

As Riress writhed and clawed at her neck trying to remove the sword, John went after Mary again, if the beast was going to die now, he would remove the world of this troublesome girl into the bargain. The old woman had said he needed to sacrifice the first thing he saw after the beast was dead, so he reckoned that Mary could be just the sacrifice he needed to secure his family's future. The sword fell to the ground with a splatter of wet mud, John pushed Mary away as he slid across towards the sword. 

Riress and Mary looked at each other across the muddy clearing. The distance between them felt as wide as an ocean but it had never been insurmountable. Riress pushed Mary gently towards the trees with her nose. And as she did so John solidified his grasp on the sword, lifting it high above his head he brought it down across Riress’ neck cutting deep into her flesh through the scales. She fell forward, her head almost in Mary’s lap, sinking into the mud. Face to face, the two friends, their connection ended as they had started it, on the river bank. As Mary reached out to her friend their eyes met for the last time. 

John's final blow came down and severed Riress’ head from her body. 

Mary felt her heart break as a physical pain with that stroke.

John stood up shakily, breathing heavily and made his way over towards the girl. Mary lifted her head just as John raised his sword to fulfill the last part of the fight, 

“kill the first thing you see” 

Why shouldn’t this girl pay the price? He had a duty to remove any further trouble from his lands. Didn’t he? If he didn’t he was condemning his bloodline to centuries of pain and misadventure.

But for whatever reason he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Whether it was the look on Mary's face, the enormity of what he had just done, the reality of killing a young girl in cold blood, but he just couldn’t do it. He hung his head and made his way back over to the injured horse that was lying under some trees where Riress had flung her. Killing it quickly, he turned towards the worm’s body and callously pushed it into the river. He left Mary sitting under the trees, her grandmother's cloak splattered with mud and blood, cradling the head of her friend, tears falling like rain. 

As the sun came down on that historic yet devastating day, the shadows lengthened across a monstrous severed head, lying in the mud like a fallen tree, and a young girl sang a lullaby to her friend so quietly, so gently, you could hardly hear her…..

Early morning frosts crackling over Riress' scales.

The sunlight caught in blue-black wings.

A cheeky wink over a frozen pail of milk.

A rumbling purr beneath Mary's hand.

The images floated through the clearing in a never ending vision of love and companionship. 

The warmth of her breath, oh… the warmth that would never come again. 

The emptiness in Mary’s stomach, that threatened to overwhelm her, the void that widened into a gaping chasm that she knew nothing would ever fill again. 

It was dark when Mary finally looked up from Riress’ face, she was cold, wet and empty. 

She realised that she wasn’t alone. Standing by the riverbank was the old woman in the cloak. Without turning round she told Mary she needed to push Riress’ head into the water to be reunited with her body. Mary did as she was told, without question, without hope, but a small cry caught in her throat as Riress’ big face disappeared below the water. The old lady told her not to fret; she would be reunited with her friend one day, some connections are special and cannot be broken by the severing of the flesh. She wrapped Mary in her cloak and together they walked into the woods. 

Mary’s family never saw her again, that is to say; not the Mary they remember, but for many years there were always sightings of a faded purple cloaked figure in the woods near the village, and people still felt that they were being watched every time they visited the well. 

John returned to his ancestral home, but he was forever marked and those who saw him knew he had looked the beast in the eye. Unfortunately, his family had terrible luck from that day forward with many of the young men dying in mysterious and bloody ways. 

The village and the surrounding area were safe from rampaging creatures from that day to this. But there is a peculiar feeling around the estate lands and in particular the hill that still bears the marks of a creature long gone.

Now, you may wish to tell this story to your family or friends, you may wish to visit the places mentioned, you may want to stand by the river, and you may feel like you are being watched by something or someone older than you, older than the story itself perhaps. All I will say is treat anything that finds you, with care and you may live to tell another chapter of the tale of the Lampton Worm. 

 

Copyright & Story Note

The Lambton Worm is a reimagined tale written by Anna Willows for Storied Landscapes.

This story is inspired by the traditional folklore of County Durham but is an original creative retelling. The text, original adaptations, and accompanying artwork created for Storied Landscapes are copyright © 2026 Anna Willows. All rights reserved.

Please do not reproduce or republish this story or its artwork without written permission.