A Headstrong Youth
Part 8
A sizzling sound came from Mirrhe’s prostrate body. The skin had peeled from the flesh like scorched parchment, charred and bloody, in some places exposing bone. A ragged pant escaped from the being’s scorched throat. Joren swallowed with difficulty, a nauseating scent of burnt meat wafting his way with the slight breeze that had picked up. Mirrhe looked so incredibly vulnerable, so human, that Joren was taken aback.
Then, just as he pondered his awkward remorse and the possibility of helping the wretched figure, a sound similar to joints popping accompanied an eerie ripple in the other’s body. Mirrhe’s seared flesh and tattered clothing roiled as though he boiled from the inside. His size swelled under Joren’s dumbfounded gaze and his dark clothing melded with his blackened body, turning into fur that grew at an impossible rate, all over him at once. As he grew increasingly larger, the outline of powerful muscles became visible despite his pelt that had quickly become thick and matted.
The young knight hurried unsheathe his sword, panting with uncertainty as the destroyed face reformed itself with an extended maw and sprouted long sharp teeth as it grew larger. Then, as one huge paw lifted and slammed to the ground, darkness spread from him and in a flash, the surrounding forest was drowned in it. Joren choked on a curse, shifting his position to assume a defensive stance. He gripped the hilt of his sword so hard that his knuckles hurt. Meanwhile, the beast wrenched itself from the ground and roared.
Everything seemed to happen at once. A wave of panic washed over Joren as the heavy obscurity reached out beyond sight; he felt trapped, encased within this dark realm belonging to Mirrhe with the enraged beast himself.
Mirrhe, undergoing the last dregs of his shape-changing, struggled with his almost formed muscles. His growl grew louder with each passing moment and when it seemed as though it rattled the forest itself, the young knight snapped out of his shock.