The jungle child would slaughter people passing under his tree. He would jump down on them and dig his claws into their necks and rip their faces apart with his teeth.
He would carry their bodies back to his cave and feast on them for the next week or so, until he would have to go back and stand guard on his tree again.
It had started as a possessive streak towards his tree, the tree under which, his ape mother told him, he had been found, the tree on which he had played since he was a toddler. But later, he started seeing odd multi-coloured creatures pass under it, and they felt like a curse to him.
Under their inedible skin, they looked just like him, but they were delicious. His wolf mother helped him choose the best bits and the ones to throw away.
The meat grew scarcer, but travellers, always just the ones under the tree, remained his favourites. Later, when the jungle child was found by civilisation and restored to a place in polite society, he found hard to let it go.