[ WP ] Write a creepy pasta that starts off typically menacing/terrifying but ends up being a story of true and sincere friendship that elevate and better all parties involved .

It was the dead of winter when the beast arrived. Nobody knew where the beast came from, what it wanted, nor even what it looked like. Nobody had seen it, but we all knew it was there. We saw its tracks, huge six-fingered paw prints, left in the snow. We heard its roars, deep and unearthly bellows, echoing over the frozen lakes. The sled dogs were much too terrified of the beast to want to go out there. The snowmobiles did n't have the fuel to go track the beast. 
 
 And no one was going to come in to help us. Our town was too remote. Everyone was afraid. 
 
 Night after night the beast came through our town. It roared, it snarled, it bellowed, but no one was brave enough to look at it. Everyone had their doors locked, their lights out, their shades drawn. To the beast, we were as good as dead. 
 
 Which would soon be true. Food was running short. We could n't hold out much longer. 
 
 One day we faced the inevitable. We were down to our last cans. The stores had long since been picked clean. If I did n't go out and find something, anything, to eat, we were going to starve. I suited up for the cold, armed myself with my father's hunting rifle, and went outside. 
 
 A mile or so outside of town I found deer tracks. The beast's prints were nowhere to be seen. I followed the tracks into the forest. 
 
 Hour after hour I trudged through the snow, but still the deer was nowhere to be seen. No matter how far I went, the deer had gone still further. Sunset was fast approaching. I would have to go back empty handed. 
 
 As I turned around to head back, the air became very still. I stopped and waited. Nothing happened. It was quiet. Too quiet. 
 
 And then the wind picked up. It grew stronger and stronger, whipping up the snow around me. Very soon I could see nothing but snow, and the wind was deafeningly loud. It was rapidly getting dark. I hurried back as fast as I could, but I was hopelessly lost. My tracks became obscured in the blizzard. I fell to my knees. 
 
 Without warning the wind let up and once again everything was quiet. Night had fallen. And I heard breathing. Heavy breathing. I looked up. 
 
 The beast stood in front of me. It was titanic. It had black fur and hideously red eyes. Its canines were visible and menacingly sharp. It was hunched up and staring at me, ready to pounce. 
 
 I scrambled to my feet and aimed at the beast. Neither of us moved. We stared at each other, waiting for the other to make the first move. 
 
 I realized that shooting it would have done me no good. It would only make it angrier than it already was. So I decided to try the unthinkable. 
 
 I tossed the rifle to the side and walked towards the beast. 
 
 The beast did not move at first. Then it relaxed and took a few cautious steps toward me. We drew closer to each other. 
 
 When we met, we stopped. Neither of us moved. We simply took each other in. Then, very slowly, and very carefully, I reached my hand towards the beast. 
 
 I laid it gently on the side of its head. The beast was still at first. Then it let the weight of its head into my hand and closed its eyes. We remained like this. 
 
 Suddenly the beast opened its eyes and picked its head back up. It turned off to the side and put its face close to the snow. It gave a low, sonorous growl, and the snow cleared off before it. In the spot it had cleared a shagawa bush sprouted and grew to full size. Its berries glistened purple among the snow, shining in the starlight. The beast looked up, and an aurora came dancing into the sky. It spat and sparked tongues of gold, red, and green, illuminating the night. The beast looked back towards me. 
 
 I smiled, and stretched my hand to the beast once more. It accepted my hand, and together we turned and headed home.
