Malik
06-11-2024, 07:56 PM
I breathe in deep of the rich night air, sorting through the scents and information that they bring to my sensitive nose. The rabbit is not the only prospect tonight; we pass a covey of quivering birds and some glowing-eyed inhabitants of the underbrush. I do not blame Cyrus for avoiding those - sometimes the flesh of the latter continues to glow eerily even after death, and the birds had hardly been a mouthful.
The deer is too large - we share that thought, and my head is turned to watch it bound off and so I miss my companion’s initial reaction to my shift in shape.
I only see the glittering white teeth bared in a snarl. My reaction is immediate and unconscious. I become the very smallest thing I can, crouch down, and leap into the open air. I am a flea, and I tuck my legs in tight, the hard shelled body around me offering protection against the now-massive undergrowth through which I fall.
The collision with the earth knocks the wind - or whatever it is that fleas have - out of me. For several seconds I stay quite still, assessing my small body for any injuries that might remain when I shift again. And then I stay still a little longer, attempting to process what had just happened, what Cyrus had said.
“Have you never seen a shapeshifter?!” I ask, the words growing louder as more of a speech-capable throat reforms. My transition is complete by the time I speak the last word, and I glare up at the purple wolf as I wait for a response.
@Cyrus
The deer is too large - we share that thought, and my head is turned to watch it bound off and so I miss my companion’s initial reaction to my shift in shape.
I only see the glittering white teeth bared in a snarl. My reaction is immediate and unconscious. I become the very smallest thing I can, crouch down, and leap into the open air. I am a flea, and I tuck my legs in tight, the hard shelled body around me offering protection against the now-massive undergrowth through which I fall.
The collision with the earth knocks the wind - or whatever it is that fleas have - out of me. For several seconds I stay quite still, assessing my small body for any injuries that might remain when I shift again. And then I stay still a little longer, attempting to process what had just happened, what Cyrus had said.
“Have you never seen a shapeshifter?!” I ask, the words growing louder as more of a speech-capable throat reforms. My transition is complete by the time I speak the last word, and I glare up at the purple wolf as I wait for a response.
@Cyrus