Page 62 of Changelings
Looking between his brothers, Balar said, “Guard yourerezuntil I return.”
“With our lives,” they vowed.
Pulling his shirt and kilt off, he handed them to Soren.
The change took hold within a breath, his body stretching and reforming. It wasn’t painful, but it wasn’t pleasant, his bones elongating and strengthening, sliding into new positions. His bulk expanded and his wings trembled as joints popped and muscles grew.
The shift took but a moment; perhaps it might’ve taken longer, with how little he’d shifted in his years here in the Darrowlands, but histurukwas ready.
The scent of blood and vengeance hung heavily in the air.
Falling forward onto all four limbs, Balar shook off the final lingering sparks in his nerves. When he next looked upon his brothers, it was with the sharper vision of histurukform.
“Sha-het takal,” said Soren.Good hunting.
Imogen never told him where Dermott resided, but he didn’t need the information now. With a trap in his mouth and Dermott’s scent in his nose, his senses led him unerringly through the forest.
The trees watched on in silence as he ran between them,sentinels standing witness to his vengeance. Nothing crossed his path, every other animal in the forest sensible to stay out of his way.
It’d been a while since he ran in his four-legged form, and every stretch of muscle as he threw himself forward was a delicious pleasure. Bloodlust reddened his vision, and as he pounded the earth of the forest floor, Balar was only motion. An arrow loosed, aimed at its target.
Imogen’s lands were vast, but Balar found Dermott far too quickly. The worm was too close to his mate, had violated her land and trust and safety.
This ends now.
Heart thundering in his chest, Balar stuck to the shadows as he circled the house. It was a ramshackle place, nothing like Imogen’s tidy cottage. Animal pelts were strung up in various stages of drying, and a pile of innards, unused meat, and waste saturated the ground with blood. He stayed upwind of that.
Prowling round the front of the house, Balar crouched down when the sound of the door pricked his ears. Belly brushing the ground, he watched as the lanky figure of Dermott strode from the house, some sort of tool in his hand.
The worm whistled a jaunty tune through his teeth, the sound piercing Balar’s skull.
Balar felt his pupils dilate, and the bloodlust took control when he saw Dermott stop and bend down to pick up something.
He sprang from the underbrush, a silent threat. Bounding across the yard, he was on the man in four leaping strides.
Dermott yelped as he went down, all four of Balar’s huge paws on his back. Something crunched, a satisfying sound. The man’s screams were muffled in the dirt, and Balar pressed a paw on the back of his neck to keep him there.
Worms belong in the dirt.
Dermott wriggled and squirmed, having some strength inhis wiry body, but it was no use. Balar watched with a terrible pleasure as the man struggled, his hands and feet flailing fruitlessly, his mouth wide, gasping for air, but only sucking in dirt.
“You were warned,” Balar growled, his voice broken and dreadful in his beastly throat. “You did not heed.”
Dermott shuddered and then went completely still.
Excellent.
Too quick for Dermott to react, Balar grasped him by the back of the neck and flung him across the yard. The man landed hard on the ground and skidded through the dirt.
He followed at a leisurely pace, allowing Dermott to groan, roll to his side, and prop himself up on an elbow. The whites of his eyes were stark in his dirty face, his thin lips trembling, as he watched Balar approach.
“Wha—what are you?” Dermott gurgled.
Huffing, Balar leapt without warning, grabbing Dermott by the leg. His fangs punctured the man’s boots and trou, sinking into rangy flesh. Dermott hollered in pain, smashing his fist and that tool into Balar’s head, but he hardly felt it.
Balar shook his head, sinking his teeth deeper until he could feel bone.
By his grip on the leg, he sent Dermott rolling across the ground again.
