the darkest nights produce the brightest stars
Fennick was trying to stay positive about his new found powers. He didn’t really understand how this happened. Earlier this morning, he had come across this little blueish green sphere in the woods. Like an idiot, he had pawed at it until it opened. He had suddenly been engulfed by this strange, gelatinous substance that flowed uncontrollably from the orb.
Now he could not hold himself together.
No, quite literally. One moment he would be Fennick, and the next he would be whatever his eyes casually passed over. A log, a rock, a tree, a squirrel. Fennick had been them all. When he closed his eyes he all but melted, turning back into strange gelatinous goo.
Right now he was trying very, very hard to focus on Fennick. He was having mild success. He was shaped like a horse, and if you didn’t look too closely, you might think that horse looked like Fennick. He was black and large, and had two eyes. That’s about where the similarities ended.
But still, he was trying to say positive.
That he could control it at all was a good sign. For example, he was looking at a log right now, and he wasn’t becoming a log, he was still a weird shadow horse. If he looked over at the other horses it felt like all he needed to was reach out with his mind and he would become them. But at least he didn’t have to reach out.
Fennick sighed. This was not what he had expected when he came to live in the Valley. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but it wasn’t this. Fennick shook his head. He probably should have expected it. This was just the sort of thing that would happen to him.
Slowly he began to amble around, tearing his eyes from the log. He really needed to get it together. He took a deep breath, and focused on Fennick again. He felt his form get a little more solid and took that as a win.
Baby steps, he would have to move in baby steps.