Chapter 14 - A Heart's Shape [https://cdn.midjourney.com/29f92905-e2d6-47de-87e7-5c7102186e37/0_1.png]
Doc Terry…
Catching his breath, he lay next to her on the fragrant forest floor. The strength he felt in his heart shape was only pleasure. He stretched his paws and shivered as his nails extended, breaking through the grass and leaving deep furrows in the red clay.
Within minutes, she too was complete. Her change was quick once she gave into it, and she was left panting on the grass as something new, small for a bear, compact, and dark in color. She had attractive tan tips to her ears. She shook her head, pushed up onto all fours, and staggered a step. When she looked at him, she lurched, seeing him in his true form. He huffed at her. She tried to run, but her body was still awkward in this form. Her balance was new and strange for her. She barely made it anywhere before she was on the ground. She cried out with a plaintive chuff. A fear bellow followed as she realized she had also changed. She stilled and just lay there on her side. Her eyes were round in shock. The first time was always traumatic, even when you knew what was coming. The change could crack the mind. Sometimes the new shape claimed the whole of the soul, and the person would simply live forever in an animal’s skin. There was no way to know.
She panted, eyes rolling upward, and went limp. Passed out. He moved closer and snuffled her gently, pushing her paw to the side. Out. Sleep would do her good. She had lost a lot of fluid. That was a danger during the first time. Anything that should take a few minutes, that became extended over hours or days, had implicit dangers. He shook his whole body, enjoying the freedom. After a stretch, he considered going to scratch on a near tree that looked appealing. She was too vulnerable to leave unprotected, so he sat down next to her instead. The next few hours would make the situation clearer.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
What was done was done. She lived, and if the price for that life was his own, so be it. He thought of the spark of light that might light on fire within her. The idea of leaving a life behind made his chest glow warm. Not that it was likely, but he could soothe himself with the thought. They wouldn’t harm a child, not even one created by something taboo. The weight of his transgression would only fall on him. What was done could not be undone.
He settled next to her, so she would not get cold. She was a beautiful thing, even if she was wild. For her to have made a first change so late, she had to be strong. She wasn’t the first, Lost girl to wander into town, driven by some instinct. They didn’t do well. Mostly they died. A few in horrible ways, at the hands of men with no honor. Not that he could claim any rights to honorability now. Mostly they died when the tiny passenger they carried changed within them and ripped them apart. The Lost never knew how to change, suppressed by herbs, or bred into inability by the foolish who longed to be sheep. Some pretended to be sheep until their children left them to come home. People who took pride in growing old without ever expanding into their true heart shape. Content to worship a human God, they rejected their own heritage and state of being.
Laying his heavy head down on his large paws, he wondered if he would ever really know her or her past. Would he survive that long? She would have a future. She would live. His eyes felt heavy, his weight drew him toward the earth, the smell of life, the comfort of sleep after a change. He slid into oddly bright dreams of a little boy with fire in his eyes and a blade in his pocket that flipped open. Terry found it hard to look directly at him. The blade looked too sharp for a kid. The metal was too bright, flashing like captured starlight.