Page 124 of Beast and Remedy
Settling with nature, I cling to the aspects of the atmosphere rather than wishing for a book or a full night of sleep.
Again, a sweet, sugary scent attacks my senses—
SNAP.
My back leg fractures, ripping me away from the distracting lure. Magic fuels my heartbeat, increasing its rhythm to be erratic.
But the rush and power never once have been enough to numb the pain.
Heaviness bears down, and I collapse, my mahogany fur barely a cushion.
Everything internally pulses, twinging with rawness, more bones breaking.
Helplessly, I beg, pleading for something to—
CRACK.
A torturous scream rips from my throat, an abyss dragging me farther down as I thrash. The control of my movements is nonexistent as the fevered torture evolves, forcing me to dwell in its misery.
I am conscious in my own mind, and I cannot escape.
This all-consuming, never-ending pain will forever curse me.
Plague me.
Doom me.
I jerk, space condensing no matter how much I wiggle to make room. Muscles tear as my vision swirls between dark and light, blurring my surroundings.
Blobs of night hover below me where clouds of light glow almost within reach. My hopeful heart strains for the illuminating blotting forest, and I hope my soul is not the only thing stretching toward it.
I grimace at my arms angling in different directions. Light drips on my tattered limbs, and I blink rapidly, barely able to see the thick fur pull back and caress my bones into the correct placement.
Heat envelops me, scorching me as my claws glow. The sharp talons retreat, paws shifting into fingertips.
I shudder from the small rush of relief as the scent of sugary citrus mixed with pine grazes my nostrils. Something—someonelingers close by.
“Rosebud.”
POP.
All my ribs puncture my lungs, ripping air from me.
A forceful energy grips my chest—squeezing—keeping me from breathing.
I hover on the edge of death, what feels like my last breath, unable to process if I potentially took my last one.
No. Not like this.Please.
Magic blasts, and I inhale sharply, another blessed reprieve. But the transformation repeats the disfigurement of my ribs again, my roar deafening when I’m rewarded with air a second time.
Yet the debilitating shift demands more, my power thrashing and striking against me.
Darkness circles me again, and I wish more than anything this was all a fevered dream. That, somehow, I was the one who got bitten and infected, and this painful, torturous nightmare is my own body fighting the virus off.
All so I can see my family again.
See Beau again.
