My night vision is gone. The hotel room goes from green monochrome to pitch blackness.

For a moment, I am confused. Then I realize what just happened.

I don’t know how I expected it to feel. Then I realize the feelings I’m used to are gone. Instead of the chill, liquid rush through my cooling lines, I feel a faint thump, thump in my neck. And instead of the whoosh of air over my circuits, the pump of mechanical breath, I feel … nothing.

I stand there confused, turning around trying to see myself and failing. My tail swishes, not with nervousness but annoyance. It feels floppy and loose, as though it’s not secured tight but is hanging limply on my skeleton. Everything feels floppy and loose, and I wrap my arms around myself, as if trying to keep my squishy flesh from sloughing right off of my bones.

It hurts, and I wince and let go as I realize I’ve pinched myself. But even the movements of my face seem unnatural.

There’s a tightness in my chest, and I unfold my arms, prodding the skin that’s stretched over my ribs and wondering if I have damaged myself. But then I remember where that pain comes from, and I take a deep breath through my muzzle — a dry, airy breath, that leaves me thirsty for liquid coolant.

I exhale, and realize I’ve got to breathe again in a second. Now I’m starting to feel something. Worry? I don’t know. I was never able to recognize it, not even when I was human. But the thump, thump in my neck is thumping faster, and I feel like a claw is gripping my innards. My stomach growls, and I worry about it, too.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” a male voice asks. And then I can see specks of light in the darkness, eight pinpricks bright as candles. They’re in between me and the television, and the man is between me and them; a silhouette in the dark. In the television’s wide screen, I see the reflection of a muzzle, and a knot of bushy, white-tipped tails like mine. They’re swishing and sly, like snakes.

I think of how to answer the man. Even when I agreed, I knew this was not what I wanted … not in the long run, at least. I realize now that the feeling that caused me to say ‘yes’ was not the deep, inner longing he spoke of, but a sense of curiosity. And that curiosity is abated.

My stomach tightens, and I clutch it, beginning to feel waves of awful. The feelings are strong enough that I remember their meaning from childhood. I must be very distressed, if I am about to throw up.

I decide not to answer the man. “Change me back,” I say, my voice sounding quiet and “off.” It wavers, reflecting the nervousness I must be feeling.

“What?”

I can’t tell if he doesn’t believe that I want this, or just didn’t hear me correctly. I decide to be generous and assume the latter. “Change me back,” I say again, putting more force in my voice. Remembering how to do that. Remembering arguments with my father, and roommates, and fellow board members. I won’t be denied what I am entitled to.

“But … why?” he sputters, less confident than when we first met. “You’re a living being again! Claris, you’re a living, breathing woman, and-”

“I was already alive,” I say, cutting him off. I realize I’m clutching my soulcrystal in my hand, and I open my palm, letting its faint violet light shine out into the room.

He points down at it. “That’s not life!”

“For me, it is. Now change me back.”

He’s silent. I see his fist-outlines clenching and unclenching, and I wonder if he plans to steal my soulcrystal. For a second, my worry intensifies, and I know it means I am afraid. Then I remember who I am, and what kind of power I have. And I tell myself no one would dare, not even him. Not even someone with powers like his.

He’s still silent. “What are you waiting for?” I ask, and I start to feel annoyed with him. “I don’t need more time to make up my mind. I remember what it was like to be this way. Having fur and a tail doesn’t change anything. Or is it because I’m a woman?” I ask. “Would you be so confused if a man had asked you to change him back? Or were you hoping I’d let you do something else to me now?”

It occurs to me that I am naked.

There is a flash of green light, and I stagger and fall. I am on my side all of a sudden, leaning against the bed, and I can see in infrared and feel the mechanical breath pumping throughout my system. But something feels wrong, and I realize the feeling of liquid throughout me is gone. My coolant lines are dry, my batteries are almost dead, and the thick polyfur all around me is making my innards heat up.

Brighter green fills the room as the door flies open, without anyone reaching for it. “Go,” the man says, and points outside. “Go, and get out of my sight.”

I don’t want to argue with him. I am scared now, as though the same neurons were firing and muscles were tensing inside me. The soulcrystal embedded in me glows brighter as I stumble and lurch outside, tripping and falling just past the door as it slams shut behind me. I look around for someone to help me up, but there’s no one here. Just a loud room party across the hall.

I look up at the door. A drawing of anthropomorphic animals is taped to it, and I wonder if the people inside know a real one is staying across from them. I realize I was one for a minute, but that doesn’t make me feel different.

I pull myself up by their doorknob. The sky past the window at the end of the hall is black, and I can see myself clearly in it: Claris, the mechanical vixen. The heir of Pomegranate Computer, and the best fursuit ever designed. The guest of honor, and sponsor.

The rig with a gaming-class power supply, and a carpet of insulation.

I have to get back to the room, with my charger and my liquid coolant. Before I either shut down, or watch everything inside me melt.

Species: Bat
Defiance: Nil

There are a man and a woman standing on the streetcorner, wearing face-concealing gas masks and gray-and-white camouflage uniforms. Each has a bulky, nozzled contraption slung over his or her shoulder, a dark gray menacing kind of machine with dual handgrips and a trigger.

The sky is gray. The streets are quiet. The cars are all stopped. A handful of people are out, beneath the skyscrapers with shuttered doors and blank windows. All of them have animalistic features, swishing tails and twitching ears, and clothes that are too big or too small on them.

Species: Dog
Defiance: Nil

A canid rounds the corner in front of the soldiers and gasps, then hurries past with his tail tucked between his legs. He does not look up at them. He does not make eye contact. The man swats at his back to hurry him past, and he jumps, before running to a safe distance.

The woman examines him, pressing one hand to the side of her mask and holding down a small button. Then she looks across the street, at a big, burly cat that bristles his fur at her, glaring as he goes by.

Species: Lion
Defiance: Significant

She says nothing, but watches slowly as he walks past. Seagulls cry overhead, and out in the bay the sky rumbles with thunder. Somewhere nearby, it is raining.

The man plays with a touchscreen set in the arm of his uniform, as the woman unshoulders her pack and sets it inside a doorway. She rummages through it and gets out a covered steel cup and utensil, then sets them aside before releasing the pressure lock and taking off her mask.

Sweaty, stringy hair clings to the inside of it, before she pulls it away and sets it on top of her pack. Her face is small, and her features look Inuit.

“Time,” the man next to her says, without looking up.

She twists a mechanical watch on the underside of her arm, to set it ticking. “1450,” she reports.

“You’ve got fifteen minutes, Tyris.”

“I know … sir.” Tyris nods, looking up at him. She doesn’t need to be told what happens to exposed humans on this planet.

She unseals the lid on her cup and smells the warm chowder inside, closing her eyes and communing with cream, milk and clams. They were powder this morning, but she doesn’t care.

A packet of crackers gets dumped in. Then comes a spoon, and it scoops out bite after bite. She eats slowly, pretending she’s home in her mother’s kitchen, and there are fish sizzling on the stove and the snow piles up outside on the-

There is a sound like a CRACK of thunder right next to her, and she startles and drops her half-empty cup. It clatters to the sidewalk, the only sound on the street as everyone in earshot freezes.

The man strides across the street, as Tyris fumbles to jam her mask back on. Everything is dark inside. Then it activates, and she sees her commander questioning a pale-skinned native boy, leaning over him and burbling in their fluid language. The boy is wearing their bright-colored clothes, far too light for this weather, and is doing a poor job of hiding how scared he is.

Tyris holds down a button on her facemask and sees the thin, black line traced by the shot, a zone of pure death that goes into the ground. Then she looks at the glowing outline of the talking native boy, next to the tiny pinprick of light in the soulcrystal on her commander’s person, and squints at the boy’s readout.

Species: ???
Defiance: Nil

She cocks her head at him, trying to figure out what’s going on and why her readout is messed up. Then she holds down another button, while unshouldering her own rifle, and hears their voices in plain Nearan.

“Go back!” her commander shouts.

“But-” the boy protests.

“Go back!”

Tyris watches the boy’s shoulders slump, dejected, as he turns and walks away. For a moment, she feels sorry for him. But she knows that was for his own good.

It is back there, further into the city, the way that human boy was going.

It does not like humans.

But as Tyris’ commander comes back to the streetcorner next to her, she realizes that this man just shot at one. At an unarmed child, no less. And in a moment of indignation, she asks “Was that really necessary?”

“At your attention, soldier!”

Tyris and her heart both leap to attention, as she stands still and rigid. Her foot is in the clam chowder spill, but she does not care.

“What is your rank, soldier?” His voice is modulated by his helmet, for no other reason than to sound intimidating.

“Legionnaire.” Tyris’ voice is muffled by hers.

“How long have you been on Earth?”

“Two weeks.” Tyris looks past his facemask without turning her head, knowing her visor is glossy enough that he can’t see her.

“How long have I been on Earth?”

“Three years.” He’d told her that morning.

He tells her about the savage, filthy Earth humans. The survivor camps that they live in. The crude machines that they drive, that they struggle to keep maintained, and the wars that they fight for the last drops of oil. And the way they mix animals’ souls with their own, turning themselves into animals. Turning themselves into beasts of burden.

Tyris listens, and reminds herself of how stupid she is. And how very out of her league she is on this planet.

“I saw what that boy had,” her commander tells her. “He was carrying a blank soulcrystal. He was a Spirit Hunter looking for a mark, an animal that he could kill or capture. Like one of the Company’s workers. It’s our job to guard their assets. It’s-”

Something yips. Tyris turns and sees the boy chasing after a fox, into a dark alley.

Tyris takes off after him, before her commander finishes unshouldering his weapon. He shouts at her. She does not listen. She hates him and she hates herself, but she knows what she needs to do. And how long she has to act.

Damp brick and street trash fill Tyris’ vision. Her echoing breath fills her ears. Her weapon is too heavy, so she unslings it and drops it as she rounds the corner.

Far past the alley, in between ruined skyscrapers, It reflects the dull grayish clouds. It sits there, a crystalline monolith, more powerful than the buildings that It displaced when It grew from the ground. Far beneath It, the boy runs towards a parking garage, across the street and towards It.

It is not dangerous until the sun comes out above It.

The clouds are beginning to part.

Tyris sees the boy running towards It, and shouts the only English word that she knows. “Stop!” she yells. “Stop!” She has to lean against the brick wall on the near side of the street, and gasp for breath after running.

The sun comes out, and It shines Its prismatic Glare, just as the boy dives into the shadows among ruined cars. Tyris stands there in the light, as the air wavers like a heat distortion and everything sparkles like diamonds. For a moment, her breath catches in her throat; but then she reminds herself I’m not like him, I’m not susceptible, it only swallows your soul if you have one.

I’m Hollow. I am immune.

Tyris lets herself catch her breath, feeling uncomfortably warm inside her armor. Then she forces herself to stride towards the garage, mechanically, trying to swallow her fear and uncertainty. Feeling less like a soldier and more like a robot. But that makes her remember Claris, the first woman to have her soulcrystal inhabit a robot after she died, and she thinks I’m not so different. And we’re both different from everyone else.

I can do this. I can save him.

Tyris crawls in between the concrete barriers, into the darkness of the parking garage. She can’t hear any sounds in there, from her quarry or the fox he was chasing, because the noise from near It is too loud; the vehicles rumbling, scaffolding shaking, drills chipping crystal and concrete. The mining operation’s in full swing, and the Company won’t let its Earth workers be interrupted.

Tyris doesn’t care about the Company. She wants to save that poor boy.

Clouds cover the sun again, and Tyris’ eyes adjust to the darkness. She taps the side of her visor again and squints at the vehicles’ outlines, looking for the boy’s glow. Looking for his soul, in between the inanimate objects. It was always easier for Tyris than anyone else, because she never had to worry about her own glow blinding her.

Species: Unknown
Defiance: Nil

There he is. In between two of the tiny Earth vehicles. He’s ignoring her, and crawling on hands and knees towards another, smaller glow. The fox.

A sudden longing wrenches at Tyris’ stomach. She doesn’t know what it is. She’s watching the fox, watching it past the glow in its fur, paws, and tail, and remembering the time that she went to the zoo. And stared at one the whole time.

Only when the boy sets up a large, scraping metal box, and begins to draw anima towards himself from the animal, does Tyris shake her head and clear it. She walks closer, looking down at the boy through the car he is hiding behind, seeing him so intent on the fox that he does not see or hear her. Until the fox notices her and runs, and he stands up and sees her and freezes.

“Stop,” Tyris commands.

He runs, towards the fox. Towards the far end of the parking garage, and the mining trucks around It.

“Thrak.” Tyris runs after him.

The boy stops abruptly at the edge of the garage, where its concrete floor gives way to the crater surrounding It. For a moment, Tyris thinks I’m gaining on him, and remembers her training in hand-to-hand combat and how to subdue a person. But then she sees him jump down and start climbing through broken concrete, as the fox peeks its head up past him. Staring up at It, and the scaffolds surrounding It. At the freshly-blasted crystal dust raining down one of Its sides, into a truck the size of a building. And at the hovering sky-truck above it, where Earth anthro workers are climbing onto the scaffolds and securing themselves by their harnesses.

The fox just keeps staring at It. And the boy’s fixated on the fox.

There’s only one way to end this, Tyris thinks. She puts on a fresh burst of speed, and jumps out into the air.

Tyris lands on top of the boy, cracking his head and kneecaps to the concrete, then rolling with him down the crater until cracked pavement gives way to dust. Her hastily-reattached helmet comes off, but her armor and training help her get the best of it. It only takes her a moment to regain her bearing, while the boy is still senseless.

“Are you insane?” she shouts at him in Nearan, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him as his head lolls. “What were you trying to do!? You could have gotten your soul eaten, you could have … ”

Tyris’ voice trails off, as she notices two things.

First, the fox is right next to her. It didn’t run. It’s just sitting there, staring up at It.

And second, the sun has come out.

The fox rears up on its hind legs and yips, its fur sparkling, as glittery anima wisps from its muzzle. It isn’t in pain. It’s ecstatic.

Tyris looks down, and sees the boy’s spirit escaping him right through her fingertips.

“No!” she shouts, and her training leaves her. She tries to shield him; she tries to shadow him with her body. But she can’t do that and hold him up at the same time, and a steady stream of anima trails out through the unconscious boy’s mouth and eyes.

Tyris leaps up and grabs at it, clawing the air, watching the boy’s and the fox’s souls scatter like dust in the sunlight. Then they twirl together past her arms, and beneath her the boy’s face is smiling as the fox’s form slumps to the ground.

Glowing wisps and motes of anima fill Tyris’ vision, and she knows this is bad but she doesn’t remember why. She’s scared, she’s in shock, she’s losing control of her breathing. She thinks I killed him, I killed him, oh Goddess I’m sorry, I hate myself, I’m so sorry.

Then she remembers her training. The videos, the drills and the hazmat suits. She remembers why she has to wear a mask at all times. And she looks down at her suit’s anima tag, that she has to wear like a radiation badge, and sees that it’s glowing bright red.

The two souls are taken in front of her, drifting up inside It right past the workers. And Tyris slumps to the ground, sobbing and shivering. Small and unnoticed beneath It, and beneath the Company’s hardware.

She finally crawls over and picks up her helmet, putting it on and keying the radio. “Sir, I’m in a hot zone,” she says. “I’m contaminated.” Her voice is flat. She knows what awaits her, and knows she deserves it.

It takes them an hour to pick her up. She just sits there, watching the anthros.

Ryan jumped backwards, staring down at the street. He thought lightning had struck right in front of him.

Everyone, everything stopped, except for the seagulls overhead and the distant rumble of stormclouds. The crumbling skyscrapers and abandoned cars weren’t moving, but neither were the anthros out on the street. They were as frozen as he was, and he could do nothing as booted footsteps ran up, until a thick hand grabbed him by the collar and shook him.

“What are you doing here?” The man’s voice was muffled. Ryan looked up and saw not ears and whiskers, but a face-concealing gasmask with a shiny black visor. He was a human, like Ryan — like he was for now — and he was wearing some kind of gray and white urban camo gear. It looked like he’d come off of a military base.

Ryan was instantly scared. Military gear meant he was a Tea Partier, or with a militia or something. They had to be trying to claim the city. But if he was with a militia, then why did his nametag look … Chinese, or Korean? And what was with his strange accent?

Ryan coughed and tried to collect his wits, clutching his smartphone tight and hoping the man wouldn’t confiscate it. “I’m hunting for an animal … ”

The man shook his head. “What is your name?” he demanded.

He just blurted out his first name. “Ryan.”

“Rye-ann, this place is for Earth workers.” He shoved him backwards and let him go. “Go back!”

“But I-”

“Go back!”

Ryan stood there in a daze, watching him walk back across the street to where a woman in similar gear was standing. They were talking, but he couldn’t make out what they said; they were carrying some kind of machines over their shoulders, but he couldn’t tell if they were rifles or vaccum cleaners.

“‘Earth’ workers?” he thought, crouching behind a car. His reflection looked back at him, a lanky human teenager’s with messed-up hair and a worn-out shirt and backpack. He put it out of his mind as soon as he saw it, and dug in his pocket for his empty soulcrystal.

He got it out and looked through it and the car windows, and winced as an anthro bird walked past them, his feathered tail glowing with bright blue anima. But in the humans across the street, there was nothing … nothing but a tiny pinprick of light, a soulcrystal in the man’s pocket. What were they? he wondered. Robots?

Whatever they were, they were in his way. He tapped the screen on his smartphone, still glancing through the car’s windows at them, and checked the map of this area. Someone had posted a fox sighting in this neighborhood just last night, and he’d gotten up early so he could go look for it. But now the city was crowded all of a sudden — he had to have seen at least two dozen people so far — and these gun-toting, uniformed jerks thought they owned the place.

He couldn’t fight them, not that he wanted to. But a fox lived right here near the shelter downtown, if all these people hadn’t scared it off. How was he going to find it if …

Something splashed, behind him. He turned to look, and saw a red fox’s face looking up at him over the puddle it was drinking from.

His heart started to pound.

Slowly, Ryan reached for his backpack, sideyeing his reflection to guide his shaking hand. The zipper seemed loud — too loud — and the fox cocked its head at him as he reached in and got out his imprinter. It was heavy and awkward, machined steel with sharp edges, and he cut himself trying to fix the soulcrystal inside.

The fox had taken a few steps towards him. “Please don’t have rabies,” he thought, as he stood and aimed the imprinter with both hands. Through the lens on its back he could see the fox anima, thick and swirling and crimson like blood, and as he held down the lever on the side it started to flow towards his gem. Not enough to kill the poor thing … just enough to make him what he longed to live as. Or at least, to bring him as close as it was possible to get.

Ryan’s heart raced. He couldn’t think straight, and could barely hold the imprinter still. Seconds stretched on to infinity, but he only needed a few more of them before-

“What are you doing!?” It was the man in the uniform, behind him.

The fox bolted, and the stream of anima wisped away.

Before Ryan could think, he ran after it.

Knees pressed into the carpet, elbows up on her bed. Scraggly fluff under the tops of her feet. Darkness playing across her eyelids.

“Um, God … ”

scratch scratch scratch

The rushing sound of the central air conditioning. The buzzing whirr of her notebook’s fan, on the desk behind her.

“I don’t know if this means anything to you … ”

scratch scratch scratch

” … but I’m pretty sure that I’m going to die … ”

A ping, from the notebook behind her. Somebody else had just logged in.

“You saw what happened … ” She swallowed, and fought to hold back the tears. “You heard what he said.”

scratch scratch scratch

“I don’t want to be like this anymore … ”

The microwave dinged and a chair scraped the floor, somewhere downstairs.

“Please, God! I don’t want to be like this anymore!” Tears ran down her cheeks.

scratch scratch scratch

“I want … I want … ”

scratch scratch scratch

The scratchy tag on the back of her shirt. The scratchy wool on the top of her bed. The scratchy scratchy scratching on the scratchy-

“Go away!”

A frightened yip, and then four feet pounded the floor, running away from the door to her room. But she wasn’t paying attention. All of the hairs on her body had stood up and fluffed themselves out, and she was fighting them back into place. She finally collapsed, drenched in sweat, leaning up against the bedframe and gasping for breath.

Footsteps outside. A knock at the door, and a muffled female voice. “Any reason why you just yelled at my brother?”

She couldn’t say anything.

The door opened, and in walked a light-skinned woman in pale blue jeans and a red t-shirt, carrying a plate of steamed vegetables. She stopped when she saw her. “Carol, are you alright?”

Carol shuddered. “I’m going to die, Liz … ”

‘Liz’ set the plate down on the desk next to Carol’s notebook, and sat on the carpet next to her. The wood squeaked, underneath, and the central air turned off.

They were silent for a few moments, Carol regaining her breath and Liz watching her intently, before Liz spoke. “It’s about what he said today, isn’t it. The teacher at your criminal justice class.”

She sniffled. “Yeah.”

“Carol, you shouldn’t feel bad about yourself.” She started to reach out a hand to her, then thought better of it. “He wasn’t talking about you. He was talking about-”

“People like your brother?”

They both glanced towards the door. They could just barely hear him out in the hallway, scratching his neck with his hind legs. “Well, yeah … ” Liz lowered her voice and cupped one hand to the side of her mouth. “But it’s not like he could get married anyway. You know that.”

Carol looked up at her. “But I could?”

“Of course! You’re not-”

“Like him?”

Canine panting and breathing, out in the hallway. Liz glanced in that direction. “Well … yeah.”

“Wrong.”

“Listen-”

“No. You listen.” Carol’s voice was shaking. She glared up at Liz for a second, before looking back down at the floor. “People act like Animal Syndrome and Wereism are two separate things. I thought they were separate things. I wanted to think I was normal. But I’m not.”

Liz sighed the sigh of a person who’s had to deal with this before. “You’re also not walking on all fours.”

“But I want to.”

She raised one eyebrow. “You really mean that?”

Carol winced. “I mean deep down! Deeper than wanting to go to college, deeper than wanting to be a normal human being. I look at him and I don’t think ‘Oh, the poor thing’ or ‘Ha ha, what a cute dog.’ I think … I think pictures, and feelings, and sounds, that translate to ‘Canine, male, juvenile. Smaller than me. No threat.’ And then I want to smell him.”

Liz laughed.

“I’m serious!” Carol looked up at her, frightened and pleading, and the laughter stopped.

Out in the hallway, claws clicked as her brother sat down.

“What are you afraid is going to happen?”

Carol clenched and unclenched her fists, still leaning up against her bedframe and looking away from Liz. “I’m afraid I’m going to lose my soul.”

“What?”

More claws clicking, out in the hallway, and a short canine whimper. Carol turned to look to the doorway and stared out through it, blankly, as she spoke in a monotone. “You heard what they said. Only humans were made in Imago Dei. Animals weren’t. They don’t have souls. That’s why men are supposed to subdue and dominate them. And that’s why it’s okay to brutalize weres who resist arrest. Never mind that they’re scared and don’t know what’s going on. Never mind that they’ve forgotten how to talk like a human being. They aren’t real people anymore, so it’s okay to do whatever you want to them. We’d better stop them from breeding, so there aren’t any more freaks like them ever.”

A pause. Liz coughed. “You’re afraid that you’re going to turn into a were, and you’re going to be disoriented enough that somebody like our teacher is going to beat you up?”

“No. I’m afraid that I’m going to lose my soul.”

“But you said you were like my brother, deep down. So wouldn’t that mean that you’ve already lost it?”

“I don’t know.” Carol looked up at the ceiling, and closed her eyes.

Liz fidgeted, and glanced over at her steamed vegetables. “Carol, you never had this much trouble with it when we were growing up … ”

“It wasn’t as hard then.” She spoke with her eyes closed. “Now there’s all this pressure on me to be a human being, the same kind of human as everyone else. And every day I feel more like an animal, who doesn’t understand why they’re asking her to do all these tricks. And just wants to hide somewhere and be safe.”

Nobody talked for a few moments. The room was silent except for her notebook’s fan.

“I’ve started to P-shift,” Carol remarked.

Liz jumped to her feet. “Right now?”

“No, a few minutes ago. Second time today. And again last week.” Carol opened her eyes partway, and stared half-lidded up at the ceiling for a moment, before closing them again and letting out her breath. “It’s exhausting.”

“Carol, we’ve got to get you to a hospital.”

“I’m not going there … ” She still had her eyes closed.

“I mean it. If you’re changing then we have to-”

“I’m not going to be institutionalized.”

Liz groaned and looked skyward. “How else are you going to get the help that you need?”

“The help … that I need … ” She grunted, and struggled to sit upright. Liz came over and helped her. ” … is not to be drugged up and locked away. If anything, that’ll stress me out so much that changing will be inevitable. Then I’ll be locked up, muzzled, restrained … kept there as long as they can keep me, and thrown on the street once my insurance runs out.” She glared at the wall.

“Carol … ” Liz knelt next to her now. “Prescription pharmaceuticals can help people. That’s what they’re made for. You can take drugs that’ll keep you from changing. But you can’t get a prescription without going in there for an evaluation.”

Carol clawed the carpet with both hands, digging deep with her nails, and spoke through her teeth. “How come I have to get drugged up to keep me from changing, and they can’t just hire someone who isn’t a stupid evil hateful bigot?”

She shook and held her breath, as though fighting something back, and Liz broke out in a sweat. Then Carol stopped, and started gasping for breath again. “And that’s three,” she managed.

She sat there for a minute or two, her breathing fast but gradually slowing and becoming more stable. Liz stayed there beside her, listening. Finally, Carol crawled up onto her bed by herself, rejecting Liz’ offer of help, and lay down and closed her eyes.

“You should take some time off from classes,” Liz finally said.

“I will.”

“And you should pray.” Liz stood up. “I still think you should get professional help. But whether you do or not, you need God’s help on this.”

“Will God help a soulless animal?”

She remained still, breathing regularly with her eyes closed. Liz watched her a few moments, before taking her plate, turning the light out and walking out, leaving the door open. “Good night, Carol.”

“‘Night.”

All was quiet. The notebook’s screen faded to black, up on the desk.

Then claws clicked out in the hallway, and into the room walked a fluffy orange collie, without a trace of human features. It looked up at Carol and whimpered, and she said nothing in response.

Finally it sat down, head pressed low to the carpet, eyes flicking upward to glance worriedly at her until it, too, fell asleep.

The week passed slowly. Carol spent the time reading and writing online, in the upstairs room of her friend’s house. She stayed up late, slept in late, and had headphones on 24/7. The homework piled up, but she didn’t care. She didn’t have enough energy to care.

Every day the orange collie trotted into her room, and gave her a worried look before sitting down on the carpet beside her. She stepped over it coming in and out of her room. Aside from that, she paid it no attention.

Carol slept in late the day that she had to return to her classes. She didn’t have classes until that afternoon, so she was only a little late getting there, after waking up and eating lunch and getting herself ready. Liz had already left by then, and they promised to meet up after class.

The halls of the Southern college she went to were quiet, and nearly deserted since everyone was already in class. She stopped outside the door to her criminal justice class, next to the bulletin board with posters up for mission trips and Bible study times, and took a moment to compose herself. It’s not going to be long, she told herself, fists and eyes squeezed shut. Just a few hours, and then you can go back home and do whatever you want. It won’t be so bad, and you’ll have time to recover afterwards.

You can do this.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and walked inside, going behind all the rows of seats lined up and over to an unused desk. She sat down quietly, ignoring the squeak in her chair, and tried to be as small as possible as she got out her notebook and pencil from her backpack.

It wasn’t until after she’d done so, and started thinking about what to draw during class, that a couple of things occurred to her.

One, the teacher had stopped in midsentence a moment after she’d stepped inside.

Two, everyone in the room was watching her.

Not “a few people had turned their heads to look at the person who’d just sat down.” Everyone in the room was watching her.

Lowering her head nervously, starting to sweat, she glanced around the room and caught the following up on the whiteboard:

WEREISM, CRIMINOLOGY, AND THE BIBLE

WHAT?
- mental / physical disorder
- epidemic -- 1 in 150
- early childhood
- mind/body turned into animal partway / fully
- loss of humanity

HOW?
- animal bites?
- genetic disease?
- demonic possession? Mark 5:1-13!

WHY?
- fallen / sinful natures
- last days -- 2 Tim 3:1
- final judgment / THE BEAST!!

WHAT IS SOCIETY TO DO?
- stoning? drowning? (God's law / man's law)
- sterilization (possession + genes)
- incarceration / institutionalization

WHAT ARE CHRISTIANS TO DO?
- insanity plea? maximum sentencing
- prayer cover
- rebuke / cast out!!

She read the whole thing, cheeks burning red and sweat pouring down her sides. I am going to die.

“Brethren and sisters … ”

All eyes, including Carol’s, looked up at the teacher — tall, bald, and commanding.

“I sense an evil spirit in our midst.”

It barely even registered. The world was nothing but heat and despair and humiliation, so overwhelming that Carol began to feel disembodied. This isn’t happening. I’m not really here. This is just my imagination.

“A spirit that has taken over the body and mind of one of God’s sweet children … ”

I should never have spoken up in that class. They knew. They could tell. It was so obvious.

” … and held her in bondage since she was a little child.”

I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die.

“And I say to that evil spirit … ”

I’m going to die.

He stretched out his hand. “Begone.”

For several long seconds, Carol couldn’t make herself move or do anything if she’d wanted to. Then she felt the burning on her skin turn to intense itching, and spread into her organs, her feet, her face. And she realized what was happening to her and jumped out of her seat, taking off running for the door to the hallway.

“In Jesus’ name, begone!”

She jumped as she heard that, right as she opened the door, and fell out into the hallway sprawling and kicking and clutching her sides and crying noiselessly. She barely caught sight of another girl carrying textbooks, and she registered the feel of her legs making contact with something as she writhed and struggled and changed. It hit the floor right next to her, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t.

I’m dying I’m dying I’m dying I’m dying I’m dying …

I’m dead. She shuddered, and took in a gasping breath through her wet muzzle, as tears streaked down her fur through closed eyes. I’m dead.

That was on the sign next to the doorstep where Alexandre Britos sat, huddled and shivering. He had the shape and build of a tall, skinny human, but his face was shaped like that of a fox. A pink fox, with white fur around and beneath his muzzle and short, bright blue tufts on top.

It was a cold, snowy Christmas Eve night. The air was thick with huge, fluffy snowflakes, forming halos around every streetlight and headlight. And in between the rush of traffic, just across the street from the Center, Alexandre could see the walls of Temple Square, and the forest of Christmas lights just beyond them.

There were humans there; white, upper-middle class humans, taking pictures in front of the lights and the live Nativity scene. Enjoying the night, if they had the clothes to not look out of place. Holding hands, if they were of opposite genders. Celebrating the eve of Jesus’ birth, and the holiday sale on at Deseret Book.

Alexandre flattened his ears. He still didn’t understand why they’d thrown him out of there. He’d just found these books that someone had left by themselves on a table, and decided to be helpful by putting them back in their places. How was he to know that they’d get upset at him for putting the Book of Mormon in the fiction aisle? It wasn’t like he’d tried to just take something without paying for it; he’d learned his lesson after the hot dog incident.

You know why they were upset, he thought to himself. But he didn’t want to think about it … it didn’t seem real right now. The whole world had seemed kind of fuzzy all day, and it wasn’t just because he had fur and a tail. He clutched the tip of it, trying to warm it, long past having given up on his ears. And he wondered if it was safe to go out yet, and if anyone was still looking for him.

Alexandre got up when he heard voices, coming from the door behind him. Then the door opened, and he jumped around the corner, pressing himself to the wall. For a moment he wanted to run, but then curiosity got the better of him — who’d needed to be inside a mall that hadn’t opened yet?

“Thank you for your time,” a male voice was saying. It sounded clipped and professional. “I know we’ll get to common ground somehow.”

“I’ll bet you do,” another male voice said. This one was higher-pitched, and sounded annoyed.

“Merry Christmas,” the first voice said, although it didn’t sound like it meant it. Then the door slammed shut.

After that, there was silence.

Alexandre peeked around the corner, trying to squint through the snowfall to see who it was. Then he stared.

The person who’d just come out was not human at all, but had the face of a cat; some kind of wildcat, with small and thin facial features and long, tufted black ears. They flattened, as he glared across the street with his arms folded. And his tail swished, as he shivered beneath his coat and jeans.

Then he noticed Alexandre. And if he noticed that neither of them looked human, or that Alexandre was staring at him in a confused panic, he did not mention it. “Hey,” he said, his ears unfolding.

“Hel-lo,” Alexandre said, not sure if he should run or not.

“What’s your name?” the cat asked.

Don’t tell him! said Alexandre’s instincts. They were still in fight-or-flight mode, and had just been rehearsing a lecture he’d seen, about how you should always plead the 5th Amendment when you were questioned by the police.

“Uh … ” he said, overwhelmed with these strange new fox feelings, that were making him skittish and hard to calm down. “Uh … no comment,” he finished, and swallowed.

“I see.” The cat took a few steps down the stairs, as if to take a closer look at him. “Are you alright?”

Alexandre’s fox instincts, as well as his human sensibilities — that had never seen a real-life anthropomorphic animal before that day — were still scared and on edge. But he could sense that this … person, meant him no harm. And so he tried to calm down.

“I … um.” Alexandre realized that he had been hunched over as though getting ready to bolt, and made himself stand up straight. Then he put one hand behind his head, embarrassed. “It’s a long story … ”

The cat reached down and brushed off one of the lower steps, then sat down and gestured towards the space next to him. “I’m not going anywhere. Do you want to talk about it?”

He sat down next to the cat, eyes locked onto his face and ears, trying to tell if what he was seeing was real or not. Even after what’d happened to him, he still wasn’t sure. Especially after what’d happened to him. How could he be sure anything he saw was real?

The cat noticed and returned the look. “So, where are you from?” the cat asked.

“Logan.”

“Do you work anywhere?”

“I’m still a student.” Alexandre looked up. “Uh, how ’bout you?” His eyes flicked up towards the door. “What’s up with them?”

“Oh, them.” He rolled his eyes. “They sorta brought me in as a consultant.”

“They, as in the church? I mean the, uh-”

“Yeah, the LDS church, I know they’re the ones building the mall.” He gestured across the street at Temple Square. “They wanted me to come take a look at it.”

Alexandre gave him a funny look. A corporate consultant in street clothes? He looked more like a vagrant. And his species …

The cat grinned. “Yeah, I know. I’m not really their type. I tried to tell them up-front, but they insisted. Even though I was with the GLBT protests outside their temples this fall.”

“I … guess they didn’t know you were there, huh?”

“I do kinda blend in, in a crowd.” His tufted ears twitched.

Now Alexandre was bewildered. Between this cat and what he’d gone through that morning, it was starting to make him question his sanity. What had happened to him? Was everyone going to start looking like an animal?

“So yeah, uh, consulting … ” Alexandre fidgeted. He had to come up with something to say, that would keep this cat here long enough that he could figure out what was going on. “What did they want you to look at, exactly?”

“Oh, the indoor stream, the retractable roof, the underground parking lot … ” The cat’s tail swished and brushed snow off the step, in the way that a hallucination could not. “The million-dollar condos … ”

“And they, uh, they … ” Alexandre made himself look away from the cat’s tail. “They wanted you to tell them how they were doing with them?”

“No, they wanted me to smile and say how excited I was and tell them all that I loved it.” The cat spoke through clenched teeth. “They didn’t want to hear what I really had to say.”

“Ah … ” Alexandre looked closely at the cat’s fangs. “And what did you have to say?”

“I told them they should sell the whole thing, and donate the money to charity.”

Alexandre choked, and coughed for a moment. “Yeah, they wouldn’t want to hear that, alright!”

“At least they finally asked.” The cat folded his arms. “I would’ve loved to hear from them a long time ago.”

“Uh … huh.” Alexandre watched him tap his clawtips impatiently on his sleeves.

He looked up at Alexandre. “So, did you want to talk about what’s bothering you?”

“Huh? Oh, I, uh … ” He grinned nervously. “Is it that obvious?”

“Oh, yes.” The cat nodded. “You’ve been on edge the whole time I’ve been talking to you.”

“Well, I, um … ” Alexandre swallowed. His face turned from pink to red as he tried to think how much to tell him, and how to make it not seem crazy. “My friends and I sort of got ourselves in trouble.”

“With your parents?”

“Er … with the police.”

“Sounds like fun.” The cat grinned, and Alexandre caught a hint of mischief in his eyes. “What’d you do?”

“We, uh … we were conducting kind of a social experiment. You know, like Candid Camera.”

“Do tell!”

“Well, uh … ” He didn’t want to tell the cat that it’d been to find out what random people saw him as.

His own friends hadn’t realized that he had become a fox, at first. They’d just thought there was something strange about him, until he had pointed it out to them. Then they’d looked closely at his face, and pressed their fingers to his wet nose and fox ears, and felt his bushy tail. Even though that tail had knocked something off of the coffee table in front of the last holdout, he still hadn’t gotten it ’till Alex had taken him by the hands, looked directly into his face, and asked him what he saw.

After that, they’d thought it was the funniest thing ever, and had tried all kinds of experiments on the way that their mind played tricks on them when they looked at him. And he’d gone along with it and laughed, because it was so much easier to laugh with them than panic and wonder What’s happened to me? He’d wanted to feel that things were alright, that this was nothing serious, and that he wouldn’t be stuck like this for the rest of his life. So he’d let things get carried away, and let himself get carried along with them.

The cat was still looking up at him expectantly. “I, uh … ” He looked away for a second. “Y’know that picture, where it’s like two people’s faces — but if you look at it the right way, it’s really a lamp?”

“Yes. So you wanted to know which one people saw?”

“Yeah, kind of-” Alex jumped to his feet in a panic, as two people came walking around the corner and down the sidewalk just past them. But the cat didn’t move, and the people turned to look but didn’t seem particularly worried.

He sat back down, feeling embarrassed. “Anyway, uh, most people saw the ‘lamp,’ but a handful of people could see the ‘face.’ Especially children.”

The cat smiled, and swished his tail happily. “I love kids.”

“You have any?”

“Lots.”

Alexandre gave the cat’s face a searching look. He hadn’t thought he looked or sounded that old.

“You were saying?” the cat asked.

“Well … the kids were fun. I really hammed it up for them.” He grinned, at the memory. “But I kinda got carried away … ”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I uh … kissed one of my friends on the cheek, just to be silly.”

“Except that he was a guy, and you were on LDS church property at the time.”

“Yeah, and they sicced the Gestapo on us.” Alexandre put his hand behind his head, embarrassed. “In hindsight, they probably wouldn’t have chased us so far if we hadn’t run so fast. But we kinda split up along the way, and well … ” He spread his hands out, helplessly. “Yeah.”

The cat grinned. “Sounds like you had more fun today than I did.”

Alexandre laughed. It was a relief not to be judged. “Yeah, well, maybe you should’ve tried that! Kissed one of those boardroom types and then run off. It probably would’ve gotten you further than talking to them did.”

“I should’ve!” The cat’s slitted eyes brightened.

“Listen, can I, uh … ” Alexandre looked down at the cat’s swishing tail, and coughed. “Can I ask you something real quick?”

The cat nodded.

“When you look at me. What do you see?”

“A person.”

“No, I mean … ” Alexandre cringed. “What species am I?”

“What does it matter?”

And then Alexandre knew that the cat was real, and that he could see him, and that he wasn’t just dreaming this up. “So I’m a … ” He gestured helplessly. “And you’re a … ”

“How does it matter?”

” … I’m not sure.” He looked down at his feet, at the boots that were a little too small for him now, and curled his squashed, frozen toes inside them. His dull claws dug into the soles.

The cat took a deep breath. “Alexandre, listen to me.”

“How do you know my name?” Alexandre was sweating.

“That doesn’t matter either. What does matter is that you’re a person, no matter what you look like or who you like to kiss. Or what part of the bookstore you think LDS scripture belongs in.”

Alexandre was looking down at his feet again now, his heart pounding like mad, unable to look up at the cat’s face.

“You’re not going crazy, you’re just realizing what kind of person you are. And I know it’s painful. I had a good job and a comfortable life when it happened to me, and then all of a sudden I started doing stuff that made no sense at all to the people that I grew up with. I got arrested, I got into trouble with church leaders, I got spat on and beat up and laughed at. But I had to put up with it all, because that was just the kind of person I was. Once I realized who I was, and what other people were, I had to do something to help them. No matter what trouble it got me into.”

“Tell me … ” Alexandre looked up at the cat, nervously. “Were you a carpenter before all this happened?”

The cat just reached over and hugged Alexandre. He hugged him back, crying into the fur on top of his head.

“That doesn’t matter either,” the cat whispered, scritching Alexandre’s back slowly.

Alexandre just nodded, his eyes squeezed shut and still crying.

“Don’t worry about how others see you. Just be yourself, and try to see everyone for who they are. Because that’s the only thing that’s changed about you today. All that’s changed is your eyes are more open now.”

“Okay,” Alexandre whispered.

“I’ve got to go,” the cat said, letting go of him gently and standing. “Merry Christmas, Alexandre.”

“Happy birthday,” the fox said, and swished his tail in the snow.

All of them.

“What does ‘endure to the end’ mean?”

I was sitting across from the nonmember girl, Sam, in the big wooden dining hall down by the lake at Girls’ Camp. It was my last year there as a camper, before I graduated from Young Women, and my new friendship with her was the one thing keeping me going this year. We had the table to ourselves, because no one else wanted to sit with us … or with me, anyway.

The double doors were open at both ends. Outside, the trees cast shadows across the pine needle-covered path. Flies buzzed around my second bowl of cereal, and I swatted them away before looking up at Sam, not sure I’d heard her right over the background commotion. “Huh?”

“Endure to the end,” Sam repeated, brushing her hair from in front of her glasses. “That thing you said people needed to do, when you were … ” She searched for the words, for a moment. “ … bearing your testimony, last night.”

I held one hand up, as I drank the rest of the milk in my bowl slowly. Trying to think how to put this. “It’s just that,” I finally said, setting my bowl back down. “We endure Satan’s temptations until the last day, when Jesus will come and bind him.”

“It sounds hard,” she said, while using fork and knife to cut sausage links.

I groaned. “You have no idea.”

“Perhaps I don’t. What does he tempt you to do?” Sam asked, dipping a piece of sausage in maple syrup and eating it.

“Well, you know that Heavenly Father wants us to be together in our eternal families,” I explained, “after we get sealed together in the temple. So Satan tries to make us unworthy to be in our eternal families, and he tries to keep us from starting families to begin with.”

“Ah,” she said. “So he was behind Proposition 8?”

I choked. “Er, what?”

“California’s Proposition 8,” she repeated. “Besides declaring anthros non-persons, it kept same-gender couples from starting families in that state, as well as invalidating opposite-gender marriages where one of the partners was trans. Was that Satan’s work?”

I stared at her for a long moment, trying to tell whether or not she was being facetious. “Um, no … ” I said. “That was God’s work.”

“I see,” she said, slowly.

“Transgenderism and transspeciesism are unnatural,” I hastily went on. “And what gays and lesbians are doing isn’t ‘starting families,’ it’s going contrary to God’s commandments.”

“Which of God’s commandments?” Sam had stopped eating, and was watching me now.

I squirmed. “That a man and a woman are supposed to get married, and start a family together.”

“What if I don’t want to marry a man?” Sam asked.

But then Sister Powers started shouting over the din, and presenting the day’s announcements. I folded my arms and listened to her, trying to think of what I would say when I next got the chance.

You’ll have to forgive me for being an idiot. Because it wasn’t until later that day that I realized what she had meant.

I guess I’d better confess, here, before going on … I have same-gender attraction too. I don’t just have same-gender attraction, though, I’m attracted to males also. And please don’t think it’s my fault. I had enough trouble convincing my old bishop of that, even after I showed him God Loveth His Children, that new pamphlet put out by the Brethren.

I didn’t choose to have SSA, or any of these other weird problems I have … the ones that made me squeamish inside, when she started talking about anthros and transgenderism. And while I’ve made some wrong choices because of them, it’s not too late for me. I’m not like those people; I’m not living their lifestyle, and I’ve never been transformed by anyone. I just have to repent for dwelling on these wrong things so much, and let God heal me of my sinful desires.

But you’re probably confused about what’s going on. So let me back up a bit.

*takes a deep breath*

This all started when I let my mom pick out my clothes. See, the problem is that my mom’s a nonmember — an apostate, actually — and she doesn’t believe in the Church’s standards of modesty anymore. So when I told her I left my suitcase at my dad and stepmom’s house, and didn’t have anything to wear to Girls’ Camp this year, she went out shopping and came home with all of these sleeveless tops and short shorts.

I tried to tell her I didn’t believe in wearing stuff like that. That it wasn’t just going to be girls there; that there’d be adult Priesthood holders to supervise, and they didn’t need to be tempted like that. She gave me this look like I was an idiot, and started in on a feminist lecture about equal rights and stuff, so I finally had to just beg her not to make me wear those because the other girls would shun me for it.

She said no, she wasn’t going back out to the store. And sure enough, my tentmate Katelynn (we’ve got two-person tents this year instead of cabins) just comes here in between activities to get things from the bags under her cot, then walks back out off the wooden platform the tent’s on without saying a word to me. No one’s approached me or said hi to me or anything, and Sister Powers, our Young Women’s leader, gave me this long guilt trip speech where she told me to think about how the Savior felt about what I was wearing.

I didn’t tell her that sounded like a really bad way of putting it.

She told me I wasn’t allowed to be one of the youth leaders this year, because I was setting a bad example with my worldly and immodest fashions … and I guess I can’t blame her for that. I just really wished someone would talk to me, which is why I was surprised to see that they were all talking to someone else who was dressed just like me.

You guessed it. Samantha.

I hope it’s not a sin for me to say this, but Sam is really cute, and I don’t just mean because of her outfit. It’s because she wears glasses (I’ve always had a thing for girls with glasses), and because she just seems so naive. She was asking such honest questions about the Church and Utah culture in general, and I could hear the other girls laughing as they explained things to her.

Meanwhile, I was trying not to think about her too much. And I was writing sappy, embarrassing stuff in my journal, about how I was struggling with these wrong feelings and wished that I didn’t have them. So of course, when she came up and said hi to me, I closed it up really fast and looked up at her, startled and red-faced.

“You’re Laurel, right?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah … ” I was trying to talk to her without letting myself look at her, and blushing as I did so. Oh my heck, I thought, she is so cute. But I pushed that away and asked “Uh, and you are?” I’d heard her name already, but I didn’t want her to know I’d been eavesdropping.

“Sam,” she said. “Why aren’t you out here? Are you not feeling well?”

“Uh, no, I just … ” I just couldn’t face being a social pariah, because of my apostate mom and the rumors about me and the fact that I was wearing immodest clothing. But how could I explain all this to a nonmember girl, in a way that she’d understand? And wouldn’t be insulted by, I thought. “I’d just … rather stay in here, is all.” I coughed. It was true, technically.

“Is it okay if I come in and sit down?”

I hesitated a second, then nodded, and she came in and sat down beside me. Like, right beside me, on the cot. Almost touching me. I scooted away from her immediately, and tried to make it look like I was being polite and giving her space.

She asked me polite, getting-to-know-you type questions. I don’t remember what they were, because I was too busy trying not to think how her shorts had rode up her legs when she’d sat down. I do remember that when she asked “What do your parents do?” I said

“My mom’s a homemaker. My dad teaches Institute.”

“Ah. What’s Institute?”

“It’s like a … it’s a college-level religion class,” I told her. I was going to say it was like grown-up Seminary, but I guessed she wouldn’t understand that either unless she’d been invited there.

“Oh. So they teach you about different world religions and things?”

“No … just this one.”

“How come?”

“Because … ” I could see her looking at me, a curious expression on her face. She really didn’t know. Another one of those things she was naive about, I guessed, and tried not to think how adorable that made her.

“Um.” I coughed again, trying to break out of that train of thought. “How much do you know about the Church?”

“The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints?” She didn’t call it “the Mormon Church,” she said its full name, like it was honestly how she thought of it.

“Yes,” I said. “The Church.”

“I know it’s headquartered here in Utah … ” Sam looked up at the roof of my tent, like she was trying to remember the facts for a quiz. I wondered how much she’d learned just today.

“It’s got over thirteen million members worldwide,” she said, “most of them inactive. It teaches its members to give ten percent of their income to the church without question. Some of this money goes to build temples, which are like meetinghouses but are only for worthy church members. The rites performed in temples are done to seal families together for time and for all eternity.”

“Um … yes, very good!” I was embarrassed. I felt unprepared to deal with this new investigator, who knew a lot about the Church already and was learning fast. And she already knew about tithing and inactives … I didn’t know if she thought those were good or bad. How was I supposed to teach her if I didn’t know what she was ready to hear? What if I said something she wasn’t ready for?

I said a quick, silent prayer, that I’d know what to say. “Do you know why we can seal families together?” I finally asked.

“You can’t,” she said.

My mind went blank. “A-huh?”

“You can’t,” Sam explained, “because you’re a girl. You can’t hold the Priesthood, so you can’t perform the ordinances.”

“Oh, right, sorry … ” I looked away, red-faced. I hated being reminded of that, I really did. Both my gender, and the fact that I couldn’t hold the Priesthood. “I meant ‘we’ as in ‘the Church’ there, sorry.”

“Oh, okay. Why?” She clasped her hands in her lap.

“Because we … I mean the guys, sorry … they have the Priesthood. It’s the literal power of God, and the authority to act in his name. Only God can seal families together for time and for all eternity, so only the servants of God here on earth can do that for us. That’s why we spend so much time teaching each other and learning about the Church,” I finished. “Because it’s so important that we end up together, as eternal families.”

“Oh,” she said. “You care for your family a lot, don’t you?”

“I … ”

Laurel’s stepmom blows her nose on a handkerchief, from the seat next to hers, as the bishop opens his door. A boy that she doesn’t recognize hurries out without talking to Laurel, brushing past her in her seat.

“Come in,” he says, turning around and heading back to his desk. Laurel gets up and does as he asks, and shuts the door behind her, feeling like she’s sealing herself into her own tomb.

I sighed. “I don’t know.”

The rest of the conversation was a blur. Samantha could sense my discomfort, and she moved on to something else … something about animals at first, but I got really tense then so she brought up something pop culture-y instead. Movies, I think. We talked about one we’d both seen.

She put her hand on my knee at one point. It felt warm and embarrassing. I didn’t stop her, though. I didn’t know how to politely ask. And I could tell that she wasn’t trying to flirt; she was trying to comfort me. She could tell I was in distress.

I couldn’t help thinking how good it felt that she was touching me like that. But then after Sam left, I got down on my knees where no one could see me and begged Heavenly Father to help me reach her. Begged him to help unworthy me to at least not stand in her way. I knew that I’d probably ruined my own eternal family, but I promised that I wouldn’t ruin hers.

When they had the nightly prayer and testimony meeting, around the fire in our ward’s campsite, I waited for a few other girls to share their thoughts about being at camp before standing up and bearing my testimony.

“I just wanted to say that I know the Church is true,” I said, knees shaking a bit as the campfire warmed me. Making me sweat uncomfortably. “I know that Heavenly Father restored it to the earth through Joseph Smith, and that he gave him the Priesthood keys to seal families together forever.”

I took a quick glance down at Sam. She was sitting there watching me, and actually listening.

I took a deep breath and went on, sounding less like a calm, reassuring Church leader and more like a scared little girl. “I know that we can be together forever, so long as we’re worthy and we obey all the laws and ordinances of the Gospel. And make and keep sacred covenants … and … and endure to the end,” I finished lamely, feeling the onset of stage fright. “In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”

I sat back down in the back row, the only one there on my bench.

Anyway, I’m pretty dense to start with, and the butterflies in my stomach from being attracted to Sam (but not wanting to admit it) made me even slower on the uptake. So it wasn’t until I heard her talking ouside my tent, saying she’d never had a boyfriend, that it dawned on me.

Oh. My. Heck.

She had same-gender attraction too! No wonder she’d said that thing about not wanting to marry a man, at breakfast … oh, crud, did that mean she liked me? What if that hand on the knee was flirting?

I felt this weird churn in my stomach, like being flattered and sickened at the same time. It felt right and wrong all at once, and I wanted to dwell on it some more. But I also knew it was the last thing that I ought to think about.

But she’s been talking so much to me and asking me so many questions … I thought. Then I sighed.

I’ve got to tell her, I thought. I have to tell her I can’t talk to her anymore, and explain why. I’ll find someone else to help teach her the Gospel. It’s for her own good … heck, it’s for my own good.

Of course, as it turned out, I wouldn’t get to confess to her until much, much later that night. And I’d end up spilling my guts to her about everything else … literally.

“I SAID GET OUT!” He stands, his eyes burning and tear-stricken, and it looks like he’s about to throw something at her.

For a moment she wants to just sit there on the doorstep, cradling her tail and sobbing to herself. But she hears something slump heavily against the door, and a second later she hears Joshua crying. She hurries to her car instead, limping because of her tail and wondering what she did wrong.

Where had I gone wrong?

Was it looking up transformation stories, with vivid descriptions of changes? I’d hidden that all throughout high school … it’d been my deepest shame and my fondest desire.

How about looking up pics? I hadn’t worked up the courage to do that until I’d almost graduated … they were so shocking. Painful changes, mental changes, change-as-reward and change-as-sadistic-punishment. People being annihilated and replaced by something else, something more attractive, something that deserved to live unlike me-

I convulsed and froze that way, my face twisted in pain, every muscle locked up. It lasted a long few seconds before letting me go, and I gasped for breath and tried to gather my thoughts again. The floor was hard underneath me, and I leaned against the door for support.

Maybe it was when I’d started going to furmeets, I thought, still trying to catch my breath and holding onto the doorknob. I’d told myself there was nothing wrong with it. I’d told myself I was past all of that. But then Sam was there … and she was really a you are too now-

Another convulsion.

By now I was fighting back tears again. I’d almost torn off the doorknob. It wasn’t anything physical … it wasn’t anything to do with my new form or the bands on the fur around my neck and shoulders right now. It was fear, and pain, and awful, awful guilt.

My mind replayed the last few hours for me. Staying up late, letting down my resolve, reading those stories and being filled with such desperate longing again. Remembering that Sam was nocturnal … remembering her invitation. The one she’d extended so innocently, because she hadn’t known. She hadn’t known what I believed, what my family believed, what we’d been taught at church twice a week. She hadn’t known the Truth.

But I had, and I’d been so horrified when I realized what I wanted to do. I’d wanted to just turn my brain off. I’d wanted to forget. I’d turned off my computer, gotten up from my chair and started pacing my room miserably. But nothing distracted me from what I wanted so badly to do. So I called her, and nervously took her up on her offer. I made sure to let her know that this wasn’t a date, and the door had to be open at all times so we wouldn’t be alone together.

After that horribly awkward conversation, my mind cleared a little. I thought to myself Okay, self, you’ve bought twenty minutes to think about it. And when she gets here, you can just apologize to her and ask her to leave; maybe even tell her why, and invite her to come to church with you or something. Something good can still come out of this. And I paced, and sweated, and calmed myself down as well as I could, and imagined exactly how the conversation would go.

But then I heard her knock at the door, and it’s like my mind went all aslkjdf- And all I could think about were those stories, and how badly I wanted it, and this voice in the back of my head was saying Just once! Just for tonight! Just to see what it feels like! Please!

And I couldn’t say no.

So after she knocked a second time, it’s like I went down there on autopilot. Then I sold my soul for a minute of pleasure, and this horrible dustmop thing behind that’s my tail

I almost clawed my eyes out with that spasm.

I lay there on the floor gasping, looking up at the ceiling, hurting from where my foot had struck the stairs but too exhausted to move it.

Finally I dragged myself to my feet and limped up to my bedroom, whimpering with each step and trying to forget what I’d done. Imagining that I had a skin disease, or was wearing a tight, fuzzy coat.

It didn’t work. I cried myself to sleep, thinking of what my parents would say if they knew. Remembering all of the good times with them, and all of the family lessons, and knowing I’d betrayed their trust. My favorite hymns mocked me as I drifted off.

I dreamed I was seventeen again.

I was sitting on a hard, metal folding chair, in the gymnasium of the church that my family went to. I was surrounded by dozens of kids and a handful of adults. We were listening to the elderly preacher they’d invited to speak to the youth go on about the evils of our day and age … immodesty, homosexuality, disobedience to parents. When he mentioned Internet pornography I shrank in my seat, and realized how disgusting it was to imagine bodies changing like in the stories I read. I nodded, quickly, at everything that he said, beating myself up inside and silently begging God to help me overcome this evil.

“Isn’t this a crazy, mixed-up world we live in?” he asked, his leathery face wrinkling with a sardonic smile. “Where a man thinks he can marry another man … ”

He paused to let everyone chuckle.

” … and where animals think they should be treated like human beings.”

I froze.

“The scriptures say God gave man dominion over all lesser beasts,” he went on. “That means animals, whether they walk on four legs or two!”

Someone called out “Amen!” Meanwhile, I could feel sweat begin to pour down my sides. I was aware now that I was dreaming, I was aware that I was feeling this inside my dream because I was sweating in real life, and I wasn’t letting myself wake up yet because I had to listen to how wrong I was.

“God will not curse you with temptations that you can’t handle,” he went on, stalking the room and pointing out at us. “Not if you pray and submit yourself to Him. So if a woman becomes a cat, a cat that walks on two legs, it’s her own fault!”

“Amen!” more people shouted.

“And if that cat helps a boy become a fox, it’s his fault!” He stabbed his finger at me, and I looked down and started crying. “He has forfeited his rights and blessings as a human being, and has taken his place beneath man!”

“Amen!”

“And since animals don’t have souls,” he growled, “it means he has given his to the Devil, to be tormented by the flames of Hell for all of eternity.”

The crowd and the preacher drifted away, their response muted and faint, as the chair I was in was surrounded by darkness. Hot, firey darkness, and I could hear roaring flames as they began to lick at my-

I woke up covered in sweat, tangled in bedsheets and scratching myself furiously. I itched all over, and as I fought and squirmed and nearly fell out of bed I could feel my tail and my muzzle growing back out. I must have changed to a human while I was asleep, and now something was causing me to change back.

No! I thought. Stop! I want to go back to being a human! But the itching continued, and I threw off the bedsheets and tore off my shirt, sitting up and scratching hard all over. It didn’t feel good at all, unlike the first time. I was even starting to get nauseous.

Finally I looked up, at the light coming in through the curtains and at the digital clock on my desk. It was almost 11. The space heater was on and the door was closed, and it was sweltering in my room.

I reached over and turned it off, then flopped back on top of my bed, groaning. Rubbing my eyes, and stopping when I felt pawpads. Then I lifted my hands from my face, looked at them for a long moment, and let them fall to either side of me, letting out my breath.

My body felt limp and lifeless. But my soul felt even worse, because I knew that I’d given it up to the Devil — traded it for empty pleasures, a form that would probably last for the rest of my life, and the knowledge that I had sinned against God and His image. And while God was forgiving to those who submitted to Him, there was no forgiveness for soulless animals.

I had no energy left. Not even enough to move. I just looked up at the ceiling and sighed, closing my eyes.

“Damn me,” I whispered. “God damn me to Hell.”

But he didn’t have to, I thought, because I’d already done it myself.

I don’t know how long I stood in front of the mirror.

I hadn’t bothered to put my shirt back on yet. It was a shock to see myself as an anthro, to the point where I had to pretend that it wasn’t me that I was looking at. The “fox” who looked back at me wasn’t miraculously fit, like in most of the drawings … he was in the same physical condition that I’d always been in. He even still had a bit of a stomach. Somehow, I’d always imagined that I would’ve gotten in shape before doing this.

His fur looked ragged, his face looked lifeless, and his shoulders sagged with the same weariness that I felt. I looked his red and white pelt up and down, too tired to feel any disgust. And when I finally reached my arm out and turned the light off, and saw a dim blue glow around his shoulders and neck, I sighed. Because it meant that I’d probably be looking at this fox in the mirror for the rest of my life.

“However long that is.” My voice cracked.

I swallowed to moisten the inside of my muzzle, and shuffled on out of the bathroom.

I pulled my shirt back on as I stepped off the stairs, and walked into the living and dining area, sunlight streaming in through the curtains. The opened boxes, unplugged electronics, and dishes still wrapped up in packing paper all seemed unearthly somehow. It felt like the place had been frozen in time, like I was stepping into a crime scene.

I’d been going to finish unpacking this morning, before registering for classes online. Somehow that seemed far away now.

Something felt off, but I wasn’t sure what until I slumped onto the couch and sat there still for a moment. Then I realized I could hear everything; the whirr of the refrigerator, the ticking of the clock, the buzz of the electronics in the kitchen behind me. The sunbeams coming in through the windows seemed brighter than usual, and I could feel my clothes on my fur, itchy and uncomfortably tight.

Is this why Sam’s usually human? I thought. But then I corrected myself. She’s not human, she’s … she’s …

I winced. I couldn’t do that to her.

I’m an animal, I thought, sinking back further into the couch. And it doesn’t matter if I can make myself look like a human. I don’t know how. I don’t care to learn how. I don’t care about anything anymore …

My tail was getting squashed painfully. I did care about that. I sat upright and adjusted it, and my mind went blank again for a few seconds. Then it reminded me of what I’d done, and I sighed and put my head in my hands.

An hour later I was still there on the couch, sprawled out along it, staring up at the ceiling and remembering. Imagining. The feel of the changes inside me …

… the shame that I felt inside …

… the first bits of fur poking through my skin …

… knowing I was awful and slimy to the core …

… feeling like this was what I had been made for …

… knowing I’d destroyed myself.

I was a fox, I thought! A red fox! I actually was one, and it was real and I could change back and forth any time that I wanted!

“I am an enemy to God,” I whispered, the corners of my eyes moistening. “I chose to fight against him. I don’t deserve to live, and I deserve to be cast into Hell.”

The memories began to merge. Instead of beautiful change pouring into me through Sam’s arms, I imagined firey, painful death. I imagined it tearing at me, consuming me from inside, liquefying my bones and roasting my internal organs. I imagined screaming as my skin and hair set on fire, and burning to ash as she laughed. Another soul claimed by the Devil.

The only thing worse than imagining that was knowing that it’d really happened. That’s what happened to my soul, I thought, while my body was being changed. I’m just a shambling shell now. That’s why I don’t have any energy left. That’s why it’s okay if I die.

That’s why I have to kill myself.

I stared up at the ceiling again, imagining it and wondering what the best way would be.

It took me a little while, but I finally figured it out. I didn’t know which cuts I’d have to make, but I thought I could just try them all and see which one did the job.

The trouble was, I’d have to ignore the pain long enough to do so. Worse, I’d have to actually get up and go to the kitchen to get out a knife. And because everything was still packed up, I’d have to dig through the boxes and find which one had them in it, and then find one that was sharp enough.

I wasn’t sure I could even stand up right now, let alone dig through boxes. I felt so drained it was a stretch just to lift up my arm, and squint at my claws. Too dull, I thought. No good. I let my hand drop back to the couch, and sighed.

That’s when the phone rang.

It could be Sam calling to apologize, I thought.

Or to demand an apology, I thought back to myself. To tell me her tail is broken and sue for damages.

Second ring.

Maybe it’s someone else, I thought. Will they still remind me of how worthless I am? Will they help me get the rest of the way there?

Third ring …

I jumped to my feet and ran around the couch to smack into the kitchen wall, and just barely grabbed the phone above me before it rang a fourth time and the answering machine picked it up. My shoulder absorbed the blow, and I slumped down next to the wall and winced before speaking. “Hello?”

“Hey, Josh!” It was a male voice, the voice of one of my friends from high school. It sounded like he was driving. The caller ID just said ” >>> MARK <<< ".

"Hey." I forced a grin.

"Didn’t go to church today?" he asked.

"Uh, no ... " I looked up at the clock. "Too busy ... unpacking. I guess."

"Yeah, don’t worry, we’ll both make it up. I’m still out on the highway," Mark went on. "Got a big moving truck I finally finished loading last night. Still can’t believe they’ve got us in duplexes this year. We’re moving up in the world!"

"Heh, yeah ... " I squirmed, and rubbed at my shoulder to try to make it stop hurting.

"Is something wrong?" Mark asked. "Your voice sounds kinda funny."

"Huh? Uh, no, uh ... " I coughed. "Maybe I’m getting a ... a something ... uh ... are you sure it isn’t your signal?" I broke out in a sweat.

"Yeah, it is noisy out here." He was silent for a long moment, and I could hear the sounds of his driving. He shouldn’t be driving while using a cellphone, I thought, even as I realized I knew what I had to say and tried to think how to put it.

“Listen, Mark, uh … ” I coughed again. “I hate to break it to you, but we’ve got a new roommate,” I sort-of-lied.

“They’re putting five in there?” he asked. “What kind of new roommate?” he went on, before I could stumble over his first question.

“The, uhh … ” I swallowed. “The slightly furry kind, if you get what I’m saying.”

Long, long pause. I burned and itched all over with sweat.

“They’re having us live with an anthro?” Mark asked. “But that’s dangerous! What about disease? What about parasites? What if he turns feral?”

I couldn’t say anything. I’d started to pant through my muzzle, and was slumped up against the wall, sitting down.

“And what about spiritual dangers? I mean, I know the crazy liberals who make the laws don’t give a flying flip, but you know what they do, Josh! This is … ” his signal broke up, ” … a religious college for heaven’s sake! Whatever happened to freedom of religion? Didn’t the Honor Code used to prevent being openly anthro? And now he’s going to be walking around campus that way, shedding in the cafeteria, dating human girls and trying to get them to live his lifestyle!

“This is what we were warned about, Josh. It’s a sign of the times, and it’s already starting. He’s going to try to corrupt us,” he finished, sounding dire and prophetic.

“M-maybe he already has … ” I continued panting, drawing in huge breaths, unable to stop myself.

” … what do you mean by that, Josh?” He sounded suspicious. “And what’s that sound?”

I hung up, then buried my face in my hands and started crying again. It lasted for a long time. The phone rang again, but I ignored it.

I’m doomed, I’m doomed, my whole life is over … It was separate from wanting to kill myself, and felt more real right now than Hell did. This hurt even worse, because it showed me that even if I wanted to go back to my old life, I couldn’t. Not anymore.

The cordless handset rang next to me again, as I huddled there in the fetal position. I wiped tears from my furry, fox face to squint down at the screen. The caller ID read “PETERSON, ANDREW.”

I picked it up, pressed the button and sniffled. “H-hey … ”

“Hey, Josh.” I heard a road map crinkle, and sounds of traffic from nearby, but it didn’t sound like he was driving. “Got lost and stopped at a gas station. The attendant doesn’t speak English well enough to give directions. Can you tell me how to get there?”

“Uh, s-sure … ” I sniffled again.

“Is something wrong?”

“Yeah, uh, no, uh … ” I swallowed. “Where’re you at?”

He told me as well as he could, and I spent the next minute or so giving directions. It took my mind off of what was going on, and helped me to think more clearly.

“Thanks,” he said. “Glad you’re not at church today. I would’ve missed you.”

“Yeah … ”

The phone clicked against his glasses, as he shifted it to the other hand. “Listen, are you sure you’re okay? You don’t sound so good.”

I coughed. “I’m not … ”

“What’s wrong?”

“I, uh … ” I couldn’t say it. ” … I found out we’re getting an anthro roommate,” I finished, lamely.

” … that’s got you upset?”

“A-and Mark, he’s really mad about it … ” I sniffled, again.

“What, do you think he’s going to make you into one of them, or something?”

“I-”

“You know it’s not contagious. You know the changes are only temporary. The only ones who are changed permanently are the ones who have species or gender dysphoria, and they seek them out! So if you don’t want to become an anthro, it’s not going to happen!”

“But-”

Andrew swore. “You know what? I don’t know why I agreed to this. And I am not looking forward to a whole semester with you two. Can you and Mark at least try not to be bigots, for once?”

He hung up, leaving my muzzle hanging open in mid-word.

I slumped back against the wall again, sliding down until my feet touched the couch. My arms hung to either side, limp on the floor, and my hand let the cordless phone roll out of it.

I didn’t know what to do, or say, or think anymore. I felt like everything bad I’d been told about me was true, even if it contradicted itself. I was a bigot, and I was also a disease vector and a dirty, unclean animal. Plus I was going to Hell.

My energy had left me again. I wouldn’t be killing myself anytime soon, unless it was of starvation. Or a neckache, from laying down at this angle. But Andrew and Mark will be here soon, I thought. And I’m sure one of them will be able to do the job for me.

Either that, or make me wish I was dead.

I was on my knees in the tunnel, going through my pack. My breath froze and crystallized in front of me, dusting its contents with ice shards. The heat lamp I’d set on the rock next to it was throwing shadows across my hands, as I tore through packets of rations looking for the sealed gel pouch.

My toes felt like ice, and my bare fingers were stiff and shook as I shivered. I alternated between holding them next to the heat lamp, and rummaging through my pack as fast as I could. Sweat dripped off of them and froze.

C’mon, where is it … Protein bars. Space blankets. Chemical heating pads. Cryo- there it was!

My fingers slipped, and it fell to the bottom. Argh! I cursed myself inwardly, as one hand dug through and held everything up, while my other hand reached down and grabbed it. Then I moved back up to the heat lamp really fast, shivering and trying to get the pouch open.

It had a brand name, but I didn’t care. It was cryoberry concentrate, and I needed it to kick my metabolism into overdrive before I froze down here. Shivering violently, I managed to tear open the pouch, then lifted my cloth mask just enough to squeeze the gel into my mouth.

I gagged. It was painfully sweet, and so tart that it burned. How many hundred times stronger than sweet cane was it? How much acid fermented in each berry? I’d tried to drink a cup of the juice once, and even after watering it down I couldn’t finish it. This was like an entire pitcher of the stuff in one mouthful.

I nearly spat it out, on reflex, but managed to force my mouth closed and tilted my head back, feeling the gel tear down my throat like bad heartburn as I swallowed. My tongue felt like I’d just drank scalding water, and I moistened my mouth, swallowing fast to clean it out. Then I cringed, gritting my teeth, fighting back the urge to vomit.

A voice in the back of my head told me If you hadn’t run off on your own, this wouldn’t have happened! I tried to remind myself what it was like back at camp; the loud, echoey snoring, the heat and sweat and itchy bedding, and the feeling of being suffocated. It’d been the second night in a row like that, and I’d already stayed up for most of it. I’d had to.

Was freezing and dying down here better than that? Probably not. I hadn’t meant to go this far, though. And I would’ve told someone if I’d known they would listen … if I’d known they cared at all. Or wouldn’t have just told me to tough it out, like they’d been doing.

I’d left markers, at any rate; chalk marks on the wall that had followed me all the way out here. Now I just had to follow them back …

… assuming I lived through this.

Cold was my next thought, followed by pain. I winced again, my throat tightening, fighting back tears behind my goggles. Then I pulled the mask back down over my face and put my gloves back on, still shivering. My feet were so cold they’d numbed, and my hands were still so cold they hurt, but the searing pain in my throat was starting to turn into warmth, and I could feel it beginning to spread.

Better get these out for when I need them, I thought. I pulled two handfuls of protein bars from my pack, and stashed them all in my pockets before zipping the pack up again and shouldering it. I was still cold, and still weary from hiking so far. But after all that I was wide awake.

I picked up the heat lamp and started walking back down the tunnel, stone and ice glistening in the lamp’s glow. Powdered ice crunched under my feet. I clicked the lamp shut, into flashlight mode, then looked behind me, away from its beam. It was surreally pitch-black just a few feet away.

When I turned around again, the first thing I saw was a bright orange chalk mark shining in the light, with others past it leading back along the tunnel. I was on the right track; the pedometer on my belt said that I still had a way to go, but I didn’t care … I could do this. I’d make myself do this. I had to.

The cold began to subside. I could feel my feet again, pins and needles inside like warm water had just been poured over them. It hurt, but I had to keep walking. The pain in my throat was harder to ignore, though, and so was the tightness in my stomach. It was no longer just from the acid; it was also the hunger pangs starting. I was going to need to eat soon, to fuel the furnace my body had turned into.

I was unwrapping the first protein bar when something stopped me in my tracks. The shadows didn’t look right, along the side of the wall. I went closer to investigate, and found a narrow tunnel leading back towards the main passage, which opened up and curved off in another direction some distance in. It looked icy and slippery, but I thought I could manage it even with my pack. Should I, though?

I walked over and shone my flashlight down it, trying to see where it went. It looked like it opened up after only ten metres or so, and-

What was that?

I looked at the ground, my protein bar all but forgotten. Something was there, partway lodged in the ice. Something that shone bright blue in the light.

I got down on my knees to inspect it more closely. It looked like a stone disc, its outer surface carved into segments. There was a rune engraved into each segment, and taking up most of one side was a bright blue jewel.

If you’re reading this where I think you are, then you know what something so out-of-place means. You know what’s about to happen. And if I’d been reading this there too, then I would’ve known in a heartbeat. But I’m not sure what I would have done.

But I didn’t know, so here’s what I was thinking:

Oh wow. Oh wow. How big is that jewel? Oh wow, I don’t believe it. How many grams worth is this? Who cares. I’m rich now! I’m so rich!

I started grinning like an idiot, the protein bar even further from my mind as my stomach twisted and growled. Should I tell them? I thought. It’d make the perfect comeuppance! My eyes widened. But what if they take it from me? What if they just take it and don’t even ask, just like they used to do … just like some of them used to, I corrected myself. No. This has to stay secret.

I nearly doubled over, as the hunger pangs overtook me. Then I knelt down right next to the protein bar, peeled the wrapper from it, and swallowed the entire thing at once, barely tasting it.

Another one followed, more slowly this time. It was chewy, and tasted of nut butters and vegetable oils. I stashed the wrappers in my other pocket, still chewing and savoring the second bar. Then I looked down at the disc, and wondered how on Tsoneria I was going to get it out of the ice.

I should have asked “how long”. It took me about half an hour.

I didn’t have a crowbar, or an ice pick. I had a few matches, but not enough to make any headway. The ice froze back, slick, and I had to be careful not to slip and stab myself as I hacked at it with my knife. Twice, I had to stop and grab another protein bar. I could feel myself growing uncomfortably warm.

Finally I grabbed hold of the disc and pulled, and the remaining ice broke away. Then I tried to stand up with it, only to be stopped short and nearly fell over. What the heck?

I looked closely. The disc had thin leather strips attaching it to the ice, tied around a loop at what must be the top. It wasn’t just a disc, it was an amulet; some kind of ornament. And the leather was buried deep in the ice.

I didn’t have time for that. So I cut the straps off, then held the disc up to the light, grinning excitedly. It was gorgeous, and I’m not just saying that because it looked valuable. The gem was as big around as my thumb, and the light played off it like a museum piece … I could imagine it displayed on a pillow, behind glass. Meanwhile, the stone around it was smooth, with no sharp edges except where the runes were carved. It looked finely made, and not manufactured.

I turned the stone disc around. On the back were intricate slots and grooves. I furrowed my brow, examining it. This side looked less like a piece of jewelry, and more like a piece of machinery. What was it for?

No clue, I thought. Oh well. I pocketed it, and started to go back when I stopped in my tracks. That side tunnel was beckoning me, and I don’t mean in a magical, mysterious sense. I mean something more like an OCD way. It was going to drive me nuts if I didn’t go down it.

You’d think I would’ve right away, just to see if it had anything to do with the gem and the disc. Or if there was any more where they’d come from. You have to remember, I had just spent the last couple of hours walking through the cold, then digging on my hands and knees ‘till my neck was sore. Plus I was hot and sweaty and uncomfortable inside my coat, now that the extract had taken effect. I really just wanted to go to bed, and tried to tell myself I could take everyone there tomorrow or something. But my OCD won out, and I sighed and walked down the tunnel.

Did I say “walked”? More like “squeezed” down the tunnel. It was iced over, and I could see stone past the ice but that didn’t help me gain traction. About halfway through I started to have trouble going any farther, and I panicked because I was alone and I didn’t want to get stuck here. But it turned out I’d just gotten my coat caught on something, and I got the rest of the way through, and looked out and gasped.

I was standing in a worked stone shaft going a hundred or more metres up, all the way to the mountain’s surface. The air in here was warmer than outside — the ice seemed to stop at the entrance — and the distant top shone like a gem in my flashlight, whole facets lighting up at once. I realized I was inside a hideaway; from above, that whole ceiling would look just like snow. I might be the first human inside this place, ever.

This is SO. COOL, I thought. Then I realized I was standing in darkness, and slowly shone the flashlight around.

Four-legged shapes prowled the darkness.

I jumped, banging my head on the wall and dropping the flashlight, going down on my knees to pick it up quickly. I fumbled with it for a moment before looking up again. My heart raced as I saw the shapes once more, and the shadows they threw on the walls. But then I realized they were statues … not living creatures, just statues.

I put one hand over my heart, trying to control my breathing. I was about to burn up, both from the heat, and the adrenaline racing through my body caused by the moment of fear. I yanked off my coat and mask, gasping in a few breaths through my mouth before removing my boots and my snowsuit. After that I looked around again, hearing my breathing echo like I was inside a cathedral.

The statues lined the wall of the wide, circular room, all of them big cats, all of them in different poses; walking, resting, cleaning themselves. I recognized a tiger, a leopard, and a lynx along one side before my eyes scanned over the rest of the room.

Beneath the stone rim that the statues were on was a large circle of dark earth, with glass lines embedded in it, radiating out from the centre. They looked interesting, almost runic, and the light played off of them … and something else in the room. Gems, set in the eyes of the statue at the far end. It looked like the leopard, but different … the carved spots were larger, the tail was thicker, and the shape of its face reminded me of a picture I’d seen once.  A snow leopard, maybe?

It was looking down at me.

The blue jewels in its eyes seemed to wink, as I shone the flashlight across them. I stepped towards it in my wool socks, beginning to tremble as I got closer. The light from my flashlight glinted off of the lines in the ground as I did so.

I started to feel very small, as my eyes darted between the carved floor and the cat statue watching me. I didn’t feel like a brave explorer, decked out in the best modern gear. I felt like an interloper. I could feel the echoes of the big cats who’d once lived on the mountain above judging me as though seeing a human creature for the first time. And I felt scared and contrite, and really sorry for disturbing them.

But I didn’t feel unwelcome. I didn’t feel like I’d done anything to anger them, and I planned to keep it that way. I stopped about halfway across the room, shining my flashlight discreetly up at the statues, casting big shadows across the wall. Then I took a step towards the statue at the far end again, but my foot caught on something and I tripped and fell.

I screamed! I just about had a heart attack, scrambling backwards on hands and knees and shining my flashlight all around, looking for the thing that’d just grabbed me. But nothing was moving; the statues were all still where they’d been. There was just an unusual spot on the ground where I’d tripped. A place where my light shone differently.

I crawled closer and examined it. It was a circular hole in the floor, right where the glass lines were radiating out from, a few centimetres deep and with grooves carved inside it. And it was about the same size as the disc.

No one ever thinks they’re in one of these stories. Few people realize the significance of the things that they see all around them, but even I wasn’t dense enough to miss the connection. And the second I realized it, my OCD told me to “Put the disc in the hole.”

My heart raced again. I tried to argue with myself. “What if that triggers the self-destruct? Or brings the roof down, or something?” But then I imagined a robber, his face hooded and eyes dark, grabbing things up all around the room, and running out into the tunnels. And in my mind’s eye, I saw the disc fall right where I’d found it.

It wasn’t a vision. It was just starting to seem like the most plausible explanation. And besides, the disc was obviously meant to be there. How could anyone fault me for putting it back? They’d have to be Fey, or something, to do that.

My last retort was that I wanted to keep the disc, so I could sell it. Living on disability didn’t leave me enough silver for anything, after I’d bought food, clothes and clean water. I had to rely on my friends for everything, even to pay for this trip. I wanted some independence … I wanted to at least be able to repay them. I looked up at the statues meekly, clutching the disc in both hands, as though trying to see if they judged me for this.

“You can take it back out once you’ve tested it”, my brain said. “Just try it once so you can see what happens.”

The statues were silent.

I cringed, squeezing the disc tight in my hands. For a long moment, I hesitated, then slowly knelt down to the ground, placed the disc in the hole, and ran like heck, nearly falling over in the process.

Nothing happened.

I turned back around once I bumped into one of the statues, breathing fast and looking back down at the disc. What hadn’t I done correctly? After a second it clicked, and my brain said “You’ve got to turn it in place. That’s what the grooves are for.” And I facepalmed, smacking my icy glove to my forehead, before shaking the ice from my hair. The statues said nothing as I walked back towards the disc.

Kneeling down next to it, I gave it a quarter-turn before something clicked. A glow shot out through the lines all around me, so fast that my breath caught, and so bright that my flashlight was drowned out. A bass hum vibrated the floor.

I knelt there, frozen in place, too scared to do anything else.

Sweat coated my sides and I watched as though dreaming, as more glowing lines crept up from the floor towards the center statue, illuminating its spots and markings.  Then there was a rumbling, growing steadily louder as the stone crumbled and fell away, revealing a real, living snow leopard underneath. I watched with wide eyes as it stretched out on the pedestal, extending its claws and swinging its tail as the rumbling faded, leaving only the bass hum beneath me, and the pounding of my heart.

The snow leopard peered down for a moment, its head cocked to one side as if curious, and I looked on in terror, the voice in my head whispering that I was going to die. Then it sprang.

I was out as soon as my head hit the floor.

Blades of grass under my pawpads, which I was sure I didn’t have before. Tree branches scraping through my fur. The painful burning of overexertion in my chest.

“It’s just a dream.”

The bitter cold night air. The heavy panting of the beast behind me, a brief glimpse over my shoulder revealing little more than it was much bigger than me and probably much stronger. All of my instincts screaming at me to run for my life.

“It’s just a–”

The creature’s very real jaws snapping at my heels, causing very real scrapes. A fresh burst of adrenaline coursed through me, and I was able to surge forward again, just out of reach of the thing.

“…A very realistic dream.”

I squinted into the distance. There was something weird with my eyesight, all I could see was black and white. It did have its advantages– I was able to see in contrasts well. No wonder I could see in the dark this well. The disadvantage was I could very clearly see I was about to run off a cliff.

“Oh God. Ohgodohgodohgod…”

It extended as far as I could see. Looking back, I was probably on a mesa or something, but my geographical location was the least of my concerns then.

“It’s just a dream, it’s just a dream, it’s just a dream.”

My own thoughts set a cadence for my run. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore how incredibly vivid everything was, and hoped it would all be over soon. And finally my paws hit thin air.

I didn’t fall. I was soaring above the ground, clumsily flapping the wings I didn’t know I had before. I laughed in spite of myself, a strangely human sound given I didn’t feel human at all. Despite the muscle strain and stress, I was half-crazed with relief and beyond feeling pain.

Or at least I was until I heard the beating of wings not my own. I didn’t even have time to look behind me before a great, clawed, heavy something slamming into me, sending me spiraling to the ground as its jaws bit into my neck, making it impossible to breathe. With oxygen deprivation creeping in and strangling rational thought, I had about enough time to note that the ground was rushing up much too fast for asphyxiation to be a concern.

I was wrong. Just when I was inches from the ground, I flinched. And when I opened my eyes again, I was on the kitchen floor, tangled in my bedsheets, and not breathing.

I’d almost drowned once– hit my head on the edge of a pool when I was diving in. That was almost peaceful, because I didn’t even realize I was dying until they dragged me out of the water, with everyone but me screaming and panicking. I was numb and far away and (in retrospect) way too comfortable with it all.

And this was nothing like that. It felt like there was something crushing my chest, even though there was nothing there, my muscles ached like I’d ran for miles, something was grabbing my throat, and my lungs were burning in agony.

Somewhere inbetween me frantically thrashing around, a tiny bit of air forced its way through my windpipe, and the pain subsided just a bit. Then a little more, and a little more, and finally I was breathing normally again.

Even after all that, I still couldn’t move. I knew I probably looked ridiculous, but my parents knew about my “sleepwalking.” They didn’t know I was having nightmares all the time– nobody did. I just couldn’t tell anyone. Scary dreams were things that little kids got worked up over, not someone in high school.

It’d never been this bad, though. Then again, I’d never died either. Weren’t you supposed to die in real life if you died in your dreams? I’d come so close, so maybe that was why…

The clock caught my attention. Four in the morning. My mom was going to be up soon, and the last thing I wanted was for him to see me like this. I picked myself off the ground, bundled the blankets around me, and trudged back to my room so I could pretend to sleep for another four hours until I had to get ready for school.

The nice thing about having attention span issues is you can entertain yourself for hours with your own thoughts. The downside is it’s very easy to have those thoughts interrupted by things like a dog jumping on your bed and otherwise trying to get your attention.

“Go away, Soraya.” I shoved my head under the covers and tried my best to ignore her. So she tried to hide under the covers with me.

It’d never occurred to me before, but her name now struck me as strange. Soraya was an Arabic name, and she was an American Water Spaniel– not true to her heritage. And it always seemed like such a noble name. Noble was something American Water Spaniels aren’t. They’re silly-looking dogs whose main purpose in being was to bring back dead animals to hunters who would be otherwise too lazy or preoccupied to pick up what they shoot in the first place.

She’d always been something of a neurotic dog, which was why she was hiding in the first place. Half the time I didn’t even bother trying to find out what spooked her, but I was always the one who had to calm her down.

I felt her nudging in closer to me, so I reached out to pat her head in kind. “You’ve got it so easy.” It was true– I guess on some level I envied dogs, I had for a while. It was on some emotional or spiritual level I couldn’t quite describe. Dogs made sense in a way people didn’t, and they seemed so carefree.

I didn’t want to be a dog though, much as I liked them. There was something else out there that was better, I realized in a half-asleep epiphany. Something more me. Something like…

There was a loud creak as the bedroom door opened, and whatever answer I had slipped away. Mom was up. And I needed to pretend to be asleep. I closed my eyes and I drifted into periods of brief, fitful minutes of sleep interrupted by jerking awake, and then starting the cycle anew.

I shouldn’t have to tell you how incredibly miserable I was when I had to wake up. But energy drinks were made for people like me, and after a highly nutritious breakfast of Saltines (I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep any other solids down) and a combination of liquid sugar, fruit juice, and lots and lots of caffeine, I had about enough to make myself go to school without fainting along the way.

To my credit, I’d only ever fainted once, and that was attributed to a terrible diet. I can’t remember the last time I’d stepped into the cafeteria. I usually just skipped lunch. It was too noisy there, too loud, and too much high school politics. I didn’t want to bother with all the cliques. So I just hid out in the library. The librarians liked the company, I liked the books and relative solitude. It was mutually beneficial, so they never told the SROs.

The forty-five minutes I got to spend in there were almost always the best part of the school day. But it was over three hours away. And I had Advanced Algebra first period. I already hated today.

Of course, therein lies the advantage of being hungry and tired most of the time. It’s really easy to zone out when you’re like that.I could just glide through all my classes, not needing to comprehend anything because you’d have to be lobotomized to not at least marginally pass core classes, and I’d be fine with just marginal. If you haven’t inferred as much, I just want out of school.

So I shuffled into class, collapsed in the desk, and hoped the teacher wouldn’t notice me dozing off. They usually don’t. As long as you show up and don’t fail the tests, they’re not to concerned. I like things that way.

I had my head nestled in the comfiest part of my hoodie when I saw someone walk in out of the corner of my eye. A very tall someone with nondescript black clothing who I’d never seen before at school. He was wearing sunglasses, but I could tell he was staring right at me. Usually I don’t care if someone is, but there was something just wrong about that guy. I don’t know how to put it, he just weirded me out– there was something predatory about him. And he didn’t look strong, he was built like a scarecrow, but I got the impression he could rip me apart without trying. So much for my nap.

The teacher ran through the roll. There weren’t any new names on there, and he didn’t even address the creepy guy. Nobody else even seemed to notice him; the kid behind him seemed to just stare right through him.

I looked up the clock. Only five minutes into class. On the bright side, I was starting to feel a bit sick. Maybe I could call home and say I was coming down with something. It wouldn’t even be a lie for once, because the clock was now sliding in and out of focus. And my chest was tightening and my heart felt like it was going to explode I was starting to feel like I would be sick in the middle of class.

I staggered out the door without bothering to give an explanation. I think the teacher was yelling at me to get a hall pass, but I was beyond the point of paying attention. The world wasn’t just blurring now, it was sliding completely out of focus. The colors were all starting to blend together. The only reason I wasn’t running into anything was I’d been through these halls too many times to count.

I rubbed my eyes– it didn’t help. And I wasn’t tearing up or anything like that, so there wasn’t anything in my eyes. I still managed to stumble into the bathroom and turn on the faucet. I splashed water onto my face– it was ice cold and I didn’t really care. If anything, it made me feel a little better.

I took deep breaths in and out. The panic and sickness started to subside. I checked the mirror– I looked pale and gaunt and sickly and…

…And I was seeing things, because my ears had gone all pointy and furry. I stumbled back, blinked…and they were still there. I slumped against a wall, not daring to look at the mirror as if pretending they weren’t there would make them go away. Morbid curiosity drove me to touch the side of my head.

But nothing was there. Nothing weird, anyway. So of course when I looked in the mirror just to make sure, there was something weird behind me. Or someone, rather. He was only there for a second, his eyes seeming to bore right through me beneath his sunglasses. And then he was gone.

It took a few moments to sink in. And then I ran. I wasn’t thinking, I didn’t know where I was going, I didn’t what was happening, but it was just the only thing it seemed like I could do.

Next thing I knew I was hiding between some lockers on ground floor practically hyperventilating. “Deep breaths. Deep breaths.” I told myself. “It was just a panic attack, it’s over now. Calm down. Nothing’s wrong with you. Nothing’s wrong nothing’s wrong nothing’s wrong…” I eventually was able to make myself believe it, enough I could shakily stand up.

The intercom crackled to life. “Connor Glendon, please report to the administrative building, Connor Glendon, to the administrative building, please.”

Awesome. My truant ways were catching up to me.

“Doctor Reese is expecting you.” Or not. I guess the little incident earlier could have just been passed off as one big panic attack (and maybe that was what it was in the first place? Though I’d never felt like I was sick during one) and he was just worried about me. That didn’t seem so bad.

I flashed my ID at the SRO standing in front of the administrative building. It was probably unnecessary, I had to go here a lot, but policies are policies. I was halfway down the hall when the SRO yelled “Stop!”

I spun around– but it wasn’t me he was addressing, thankfully. It was two girls I didn’t recognize. One blonde with baggy shirt bearing the name of a band I didn’t recognize and a redhead with a scowl that seemed permanently set on her face.

The blonde girl smiled at the SRO. “I’m sorry. We’re new here, we just haven’t had a chance to get our IDs.” Her eyes flashed for a moment, and they turned bright yellow all over, with tiny, slitted snake-like pupils in the center. “Trust us.”

I felt a chill run down my spine. Actually, that was an understatement. I’m not sure how to describe how seeing that felt otherwise, but I’ll try. It’s like looking at something that can’t exist, but does. Yeah, I know some people will wear weird contacts that look kind of like that just to shock people, but this was different, more natural-looking.

And just a few minutes ago, I’d grown dog ears. Either I was going crazy or…well, I was probably just going crazy. But I was running a fever, maybe that just meant the heat was frying my brain. Which meant I was probably going to die soon. That didn’t seem much better.

The SRO’s eyes glazed over. “Well, alright.” And just like that, he let them by. Now that just wasn’t right. I mean, everything about it, right down to this weird gut feeling that she was scary and dangerous. And the officers here were supposed to be really strict, thanks to the fact we’d gotten school shooting threats and things like that. They strolled on right by me. The blonde one smiled and waved at me before they both disappeared down a corridor.

God, what a day. And I had to think of a way to diplomatically express the fact I might be having hallucinations to Doctor Reese really fast. I slumped into a chair outside his office. I just needed a few minutes–

“Connor!” He was standing right in front of me. I nearly jumped out of my skin. “Sorry.” He did one of those fake-y laughs. “Didn’t mean to scare you. But we’ve been calling you for the past ten minutes, I was getting worried.”

“Sorry…” Was all I could come up with.

“Well, come on in.” He gestured inside. “I’ve got some things I’d like to talk to you about.”

I had a sinking feeling about that. But I went inside anyway, it was better than being in class. Reese was shuffling some papers at his desk, one of those ‘I-know-something-about-you-and-I’m-not-going-to-rest-until-you-tell-me’ smiles about him. “You missed some of you classes today.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yeah.” I stared out the window. Eye contact just felt uncomfortable.

“Have you been feeling well lately?” More paper rustling.

“Well…” Diplomacy or honesty? “I’ve been having nightmares again, so I didn’t sleep much. And I think I had another panic attack in class today.” Mom always said honesty was the best policy, and it’d be a nice change of pace.

A glint of concern flashed through his dark eyes. “You haven’t been having panic attacks often, have you?”

“This was the first one in a while.” Several months, really, I’d had one the first time I tried to take the SAT.

“And the dreams?”

“A lot. Almost every other day.” I tried not to think about the jaws closing around my windpipe. And failed. I reached my hand to my throat. “They’re usually vivid. But sometimes I just wake up afraid of something and don’t know what.” He seemed to take notice of that, his eyes settling on my neck. I jerked my hand back down.

He still got the picture. He was really good at that. “Are there any recurring themes to these?”

“I guess. I’m usually running from something.” This was getting uncomfortably Freudian for me. I took Intro to Psych, I knew where dream analysis went.

“And do you escape, or…?”

“I don’t.” And I wanted to leave it at that.

He went ‘hmmm’ again and leaned back in his seat. “So your anxiety’s been worse than usual?”

Well, thank God, and here I was thinking he’d ask be about what my relationship with my mother was like. “I guess, yeah.”

“It’s entirely possible that’s just a reflection of that.” He steepled his hands. “You see, dreams often resemble our waking experiences and parallel then, though sometimes in abstract ways. If you’d like, you could tell me a bit more about them.”

I sighed. “I don’t know, it’s pretty generic. I’m running through a forest trying to get away from a monster, and I…I don’t get away. Then I wake up. But I’m pretty sure I sleepwalk during them. I don’t wake up in my bed.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Have you gotten this checked out by a doctor?”

“The medicine didn’t help any.” And it made me sleep so deeply my alarm clock didn’t wake me up.

His phone rang. “Sorry, one second…” He checked the screen and went ‘hmmm’ for what must have been the tenth time in the past five minutes. “I have a question for you that might seem strange, so I’d like to apologize in advance if I’m off-base here.”

“Shoot.”

“In addition to these dreams, have you been having any hallucinations?”

My stomach lurched. “How’d he know?”

And of course he noticed that too. “Perhaps that you’re becoming something else. Maybe you’ve even felt like that was true for a while, and it’s only just now these hallucinations have started happening.”

I was still too stunned to say much of anything.

He paused as if waiting for the inevitable confirmation. “It’s alright if you are. It isn’t your fault. But these are symptoms of a rare mental disorder–”

“So what? I’m schizophrenic?” I cut in.

“No, nothing like that.” He held up his hands. “This is much less permanent and much more manageable. It’s called therianthropic psychosis, I’ve worked with it before.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“It hasn’t passed DSM review yet. But it’s very real, I’m sure of that. I get the feeling you can attest to that.”

“If I have this, what am I supposed to do–” Someone started slamming at the door. Reese jerked up, looking stunned. Obviously this wasn’t part of his script. Whoever it was– sounded like a she– started yelling, though it was too muffled to make out. “Shouldn’t you, like, call security or something?” There was a shrill edge to my voice I really didn’t like.

He was already reaching for his phone again when the door broke open. Literally. It just splintered.

The red-haired girl standing in the doorway seemed innocuous enough, except for the shards of wood in her hands. I’d seen her a few minutes ago trying a more subtle approach to breaking and entering. “You!” She hissed. She lunged at Reese, yowling like some kind of animal…and she looked like one too, she’d grown ears and a tail. Like I had earlier, except feline instead.

To be continued…

The light from the window behind my hospital bed was in my face, but I did not want to get up. It was probably midmorning, but I’d had a horrible night … and a horrible nightmare. About glowing, red eyes surrounding me, while screams echoed in the distance.

It probably had to do with what’d happened the day before, I thought. I’d spent all day throwing up and losing my hair. The chemotherapy hadn’t helped any, though. I’d started the day with a nose and mouth; I’d ended it with the painful, pinched beginnings of a muzzle. And let me tell you, it hurts to throw up when your nose is as long as your face. I could see it in front of my eyes now, inches long, black-tipped and sporting red fuzz. And I sighed, but it hurt to sigh, so I whimpered instead and closed my eyes again.

The best I could hope for was that it was cyclical. But if that was the case, then I’d have to go through this again twice a year … three times a year. More. However often it ended up being. At least there wouldn’t be chemo involved.

I felt so tired and disoriented. How long had I been here? Was it yesterday that I’d been throwing up … or the day before? Or sometime before that?

And why was the building so quiet?

I tried to sit up, but my head spun, and I groaned and flopped back down again. Doing so pulled on the tube attached to the needle inside my arm, and it stung and I winced. I lay there just breathing for awhile, feeling every inch of my weary, sprawled-out body; my new, strangely-shaped feet, and the tail that was lumped up and numb beneath me. My fur, that was thin and fuzzy but making the sheets uncomfortably hot.

My nostrils flared, and while they’d grown used to the scent I could detect the hints of all kinds of messes, including the blood I’d thrown up. I winced again, and pitied whomever had to clean the room. And change my sheets.

If there’s anyone out there …

The thought came to me unbidden. My ears twitched, and I listened intently. There was nothing but silence.

Loud, ringing silence.

No white noise. Not even machinery humming.

My eyes flicked open, and glanced around nervously before settling on the IV bottle next to my bed. It was empty.

How long had I been in here?

I groaned and tried again to sit up, straining to push myself upright. Then I tried to gasp for breath once I sat up, but it hurt as I opened my muzzle. Worse, my throat was completely dry, and there was a lump when I tried to swallow. I needed water and food. A shower, too. Where were the nurses? Where was my family? Why was no one else here?

First things first. I reached over and pressed the call button. The light from the windows was bright, so I had to cup my hand over it to see that the light hadn’t come on. Okay, that settled it … there was a power outage, and they’d evacuated the place because of whatever’d caused it. But what had happened? I wondered. The IV stand was still upright, so it probably wasn’t an earthquake …

I went to undo the bandage, then stopped. My arm had thin, red fuzz on it, and my fingers looked gnarled and had dull claws on them. I turned my hand over, and there were pawpads on the palm.

I looked at it for a long moment before my vision started to blur. Permanently disfigured, the voice in my head told me. Permanently scarred …

And what about mental changes? Was I a dog? A fox? How much of me was still left inside? I remembered reading a rabbit’s online journal, and how his whole life had changed because he was scared of everything now. But I couldn’t tell if I was having new feelings or not. I was just physically worn out, and in need of pretty much everything food- and hygiene-related.

Argh, I didn’t need to be thinking about this. I especially didn’t need to be crying, I was going to dehydrate myself. Maybe I should just close my eyes, and let myself be … think about nothing but the animal I was, and what it needed at the moment.

Okay. I shuddered. Okay. I can do this.

I carefully detached the IV needle from my arm, then patted the bandage back down around it. It was old and blood-stained — my skin had probably stretched while it was attached. I would take care of that when I could.

I removed the bedcovers, and my fuzzy skin was still way too warm beneath the hospital gown. The air conditioning seemed to be off. How long had I been sweating? How had I not dehydrated?

I slowly shifted around and put my bare feet to the floor. They touched something fuzzy, and I leaned forward and looked down, becoming a little light-headed as I did so. There were huge clumps of hair all around my bed.

I could feel the loss, and I knew I’d start crying again if I thought about it. But it seemed far away, and the floor also reminded me of a barbershop after a haircut. I just let it be that, in my mind, and tried to make myself stand, leaning on the IV pole for support as I balanced on unsteady feet. Then I gripped it tightly and winced, as my tail turned into pins and needles behind me. I’d slept on it for who knows how long, and it hurt.

I looked behind me at it, and it was surprisingly long; a couple of feet already, with bright red fur. It looked like it’d be fluffy if it wasn’t so matted. Was I a fox, then? They had neat tails …

I gasped as the pain sharpened. Then I reached out behind me, wincing and holding on with my other hand, and tried to straighten my tail out. It was limp and lifeless, and had been bent at a painful angle, still on top of the bed. I pulled it off and let it fall down behind me, and then cringed as blood rushed into it. But that seemed to help; it began to sway a bit as I tried to balance myself. I could feel it doing that without my thinking about it.

I looked behind me and tried to make my tail move on my own, and could see it do so about as feebly as I was moving the rest of myself. Then I took a deep breath, and tried to step away from the IV pole, one hand on the bed to catch myself if I fell.

My eyes went to the furniture, as I moved. The chairs were tipped over, and one of them was smashed. And it wasn’t just my hair on the floor, either; there were thick clumps of gray, black, even red hairs. Or was it fur? It looked like a herd of cats had shed all over the place.

When I got to the end of my bed I let go of it, and held out my arms to balance myself as I walked the few steps to the doorway. With the way that my lower legs were reverse-jointed now, it felt like I was walking on stilts. I stumbled and nearly tripped, but caught myself on the doorway and took more deep breaths to steady my heart.

I looked up at the edge of the door where I’d grabbed it and saw deep clawmarks scoring it. Below that, I saw a dark stain.

My eyes went down to my hand, and I slowly lifted it from the doorframe. Dried blood crumbled beneath my fingertips.

My heart began to race, and the room began to spin. I lurched downward, not fighting it, and sunk down next to the door, my back pressed up against it. My head pointed upward and my eyes were squeezed shut, as I gasped for breath through my dry muzzle. One hand was still holding onto the doorframe, and I slowly let it drop, then tried to adjust my tail behind me.

Oh man, I thought. Oh man.

I remembered that rabbit’s journal again, and could feel that same fear inside me: the fear of being a small, helpless animal. Was it because I was half fox now, or would I have had the same reaction as a human? I didn’t know. I didn’t care. I couldn’t.

A thought came to me, and I winced at the irony. All the survival horror games that I’d played, and I couldn’t make myself look around the corner.

Then I heard a voice, from outside the room.

*whisper* *mumble* *hiss* *whisper*

Huh?

*mumble* *hiss* *whisper* *mumble*

My knees started to shake. This was not making me feel better about leaving the room.

I found myself trying to think how long I could survive in there, and what my chances of rescue were. Of course, I had no idea if anyone even knew I was alive, but at the time I really wanted to be talked into just sitting there. How long could I go without food and water? I thought.

My muzzle convulsed in a dry swallow, and I nearly gagged on the lump in my throat. I whimpered again, this time without tears, and tried to talk myself into going outside. There’s a water fountain down the hall, I told myself. There will be lots of food in the cafeteria …

*whisper* *mumble* *whisper* *hiss*

I clenched my fists, feeling dull claws press into my pawpads. Then, on all fours, I crawled to the edge of the doorway and peeked outside.

A long moment later I pulled back slowly, still on all fours, staring off into space. My mind had just numbed with shock. I couldn’t feel anything except my fox body.

Fortunately, it knew what to do. Without thinking about it I hopped onto two feet and stood up slowly, letting the blood clear out of my head, letting my tail swish behind me to balance. Then I walked outside, and examined things more closely.

Now that I was up close to them, the smears of blood on the floor and the walls didn’t seem so huge. There wasn’t much else left of him or her, either. A few scraps of fabric and other materials, and bits of loose hair (or fur). Oh, and a cellphone. The cellphone was making the noise.

I picked it up carefully, between two claws. There was still blood on it.

As I lifted it, I could see it was smashed, and pieces of it were scattered. It broke apart in my hand, and I put out my other hand and tried to catch the pieces but most of them dropped to the floor, plastic bits and glass shards skittering everywhere. I only managed to catch a few pieces …

… including the memory card.

“Day One of the Feral Apocalypse,” a high-pitched male voice said from right next to me.

Whoa! I tripped, fumbled, sent the fingernail-sized chip flying and barely managed to catch it. As soon as I did, the voice started talking again.

“-many have been infected so far?” the voice asked. “Of course, it always starts with one. Then some idiot fails to contain it, and everything goes straight to heck. We’ve seen it in movies, and we’ve seen it in computer simulations that compare it to other diseases. All it’ll take is a mutation that allows zooanthropy to be transmitted by infected humans instead of by animals. Then it’ll spread, whether we want it to or not.”

I stared at the card as it talked, and I could almost feel the fox and human sides of my brain being separately bewildered by it. I turned my head, cocking an ear towards it. Then I recoiled as the voice started again, loudly this time.

“You’d think that someone would have listened to me by now!” he complained. “I mean, it’s not like we already knew of an animal-borne disease that turns people into animals or anything. It’s not like it kills half the people it touches, without hospital intervention. And the ones who survive untreated become warped, twisted, and feral. Oh, no.

“I knew that it’d happen, and I knew that it’d start in a hospital. Doctors think they’re immune to everything. Peh, they don’t even wash their hands properly.”

I wasn’t hearing a voice in my head. I was hearing a physical voice from the memory card. But when I turned it around in my hand, or held it between my claws instead of next to my skin, I could hear it modulating; growing softer and louder, then softer again. What was going on?

My subconscious figured it out before the rest of my brain did, of course. You’ll have to forgive my conscious mind. All the blood that it’d seen in video games, and none of it had prepared it for what’d happened out there.

What had happened out there? And how come I could hear the card? No clue, my subconscious mind told me. What now?

I tried to figure out what to do with the card, as the male voice went on about how nobody listened to him. My hospital gown didn’t have any pockets, though. And it was missing certain other important pieces of fabric, which was convenient for me now that I had a tail, but very drafty. I finally just held the card in my hand, and tried not to think about what I was stepping over as I slunk down the hall to the water fountain.

The water was warm, but at least the plumbing was still working. I lapped thirstily for more than a minute, getting splashed all over my muzzle as the voice on the card lectured me.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he said. “Patient One’s going to get checked in at the hospital, probably in the advanced stages. He’s got the mutated form of zooanthropy, but nobody knows it yet.”

Go on, I thought. I heard the voice coughing, away from the microphone.

“They start to treat him, but it’s too late. He’s flapping and flailing around, having seizures, throwing up contaminated blood-”

My stomach wrenched.

“-and making everyone around him instantly infected. They don’t know it, he doesn’t know it, nobody knows what’s happened yet. They’re just continuing to treat him. And when they start to show the first symptoms, they don’t realize what it is. The doctors and nurses drive home, his family drives home, and they infect other people by accident. So by the time anyone realizes what’s going on-”

I’d started to cry uncontrollably, still while drinking from the fountain. I had to turn the water off, and lean up next to the wall.

“-it’s too late.”

I could hear background noise in the audio, and I realized that he was driving. Not that it mattered that much to me. I had curled up into a ball, my tail wrapped around me, and was rocking back and forth with my head in my arms.

“Yup, there it is,” the voice said over the engine. “Hagerstown, Maryland. Population: The walking, furry dead.”

It was a while after that before I regained my senses. I think it may have started at about the time that the guy on the card mentioned using plastic explosives.

After that I ran (well, more like staggered) back into my room and climbed up on the bed, to look out the window behind it. Sure enough, there was a big freakin’ hole in the side of the building the window looked out on.

What the heck?

“Remember, when you’re being chased by zombies-” He coughed. “‘Scuse me, zoomorphs — you just can’t open the door fast enough. Better safe than sorry! Besides, explosives are awesome.”

I heard him picking his way through the rubble, kicking rocks aside and coughing through the smoke. Was this guy … had this guy been for real? And why was I hearing all this? How was I hearing all this?

I looked down at the card again. Something must have happened while I was asleep, while I was changing, so completely out of it that not even an explosion could wake me up. Something that somehow had to do with this new mutated infection … an infection that I had gotten just enough intervention to survive.

Either that, or I was as bonkers as this guy was. What was he even after? Or what had he been after?

“Night vision online … ” he said, voice trailing off as if adjusting something. I heard Velcro straps being fastened, and a metal bolt being pulled back. “Buckshot loaded. Time to confirm a hypothesis.”

I still wasn’t sure what he was going on about. Had he come here to rescue someone, or what? I was pretty sure most “zombie apocalypse” nuts weren’t the kind of people to be going inside a contaminated area. But that’s what the guy on this card was doing.

The next sounds that I heard from it were footsteps. I knelt there on the bed, looking at the card in my hand for awhile. Then I remembered how icky and dirty the bed was … not that I was any better. I got down from it, and tried to figure out what to do next, my tail swishing behind me.

My stomach growled, and twisted so much that it hurt. I winced, and put a hand to it. Then I stepped back out into the hallway, my mind made up for me.

It took me awhile to find the hospital cafeteria. I’d been rushed in the emergency entrance, and I hadn’t been to this hospital before so I didn’t know where anything was. On top of that, the elevators weren’t working, and it took me much longer to climb down the stairs than I’d thought it would. After a minute, every step started to hurt, and I had to lean on the rail as I went.

My stomach kept twisting in knots. I was starting to numb to the pain. I was so hungry I didn’t know if I’d be able to eat anything, if that makes any sense. And I felt so weak and fragile, like my skin was stretched out too tight. I’d probably lost a lot of weight.

I stood there thinking about all of this, gasping for breath for the umpteenth time, and all I could think was how absurd it was for me to be in this situation. What was my life expectancy, here? Five hours? Five minutes? Was there anything even alive in the building besides me?

I hoped not.

I heard something break, and almost jumped. Then I realized it was on the card. “What are they doing?” the voice whispered. “It’s like they’re going around breaking all the computers on purpose. No, that wasn’t a computer, it was a … some kinda … three-letter-acronym hospital equipment. Thing.”

Another smash. I strained to listen to the guy’s voice; he was whispering into the microphone. “They’re smashing anything electronic, but they’re leaving the furniture intact. What’s up with that?”

I was almost to the landing when he said something that stopped me in my tracks. “It’s like they can sense electrical currents … or magnetic fields, the way birds can. Are the computers driving them crazy, or something? And if that’s the case, will they be able to sense my-”

Something growled, on the card. “Oh crud.”

I heard a feral growl, something big and animal and alien, and it made my fur stand on end from head to tail. Then I heard gunshots, and running footsteps and slamming doors. After that was some kind of commotion I could barely make sense of, then more footsteps.

I was shaking when I made it to the foot of the stairs. For a long second I could do nothing but wrap my arms around myself and shiver, leaning up next to the door to the ground level. I’d just gotten a glimpse of what could be waiting for me, and I didn’t want it. I wanted to un-hear it, and pretend there was nothing out there. It’d have to have moved on, right?

… right?

I almost opened the door before I realized something: if he was right, and they could “hear” electronics like I could, then I didn’t need that card giving me away. There was a tiny ledge on the wall, a sort of a decorative horizontal striping that stuck out just under an inch, and I set the card there and made a note to myself to pick it up later. Then, taking a deep breath, I opened the door and crept through.

The sunlight was bright, through the glass doors of the lobby. I pressed my paws and nose up against them, looking out at the hospital parking lot … it almost looked normal. Just dead quiet.

The doors were closed.

“They went out another way … ” I whispered to myself.

But the doors were still closed.

There were houses across the street from the hospital. Even with the smashed windows, they still looked inviting, and I stared at them longingly. Then my stomach tightened again, and my pawpads squeaked on the glass as I tried to hold onto it, cringing. I couldn’t wait. I needed something now.

I turned around and hurried, clutching my stomach, past the door of the gift shop and the empty reception desk. There was a sign that said “CAFETERIA,” with an arrow pointing to the right … I found the door, and pushed on it.

It was locked.

I started to sweat, already anticipating the next hunger pang. Then I thought What if there’s a back entrance? I hurried again, back to the hallway and around the corner. There, at the end, I saw double-doors, closed almost shut but held open by a fallen mop. I walked toward them as fast as I could, driven by instinct.

The hallway leading up to it was dark. The doors were just open a crack, and what there was inside was pitch-black. I’d almost got up to them when I stopped, suddenly nervous.

Don’t go in there.

I could hear it inside my head. It was as if someone had said it, but I knew it was my own instincts again. I stood there, hesitant, looking wistfully at the doors. Scared, but starving to death.

Don’t go in there.

Another pang tightened my stomach, and I wrapped my arms around myself and squeezed my eyes shut, trying hard not to cry. It hurt so bad. I didn’t care what was in there, I just wanted-

DON’T GO IN THERE!

And then I realized what I was smelling. It was masked by disinfectant, metal trays and utensils, and a thousand hospital smells, but it was strong right next to the door. There was something alive in there.

I heard it breathing.

All of a sudden every muscle in my body locked up. My breath froze and held there, and my tail stopped in mid-twitch. My eyes were wide, and fixed on the door.

It took another breath. Three. Four. Regular, even.

Asleep.

I was still frozen in time. It took all of my effort to make myself move, to start running back out of that hallway, each step as light and as urgent as possible. I almost slipped and ran into the wall, but my tail swished and I held my arms out to balance, wobbling as I rounded the corner. I made it all the way back to the front before taking a breath, and I started gasping, slumping down next to the glass doors and leaning on them. Fogging them up with my breathing.

I had to get out. After I’d caught my breath enough I stood up and braced myself, rubbery pawpads gaining traction on the tile floor, then pried at the doors with my claws. My arms were rail-thin and I weighed even less than I usually did, but I put everything I had into it. Then I took another deep breath and tried again, not making a sound as I strained against the doors.

They didn’t budge. I tried different ways of getting purchase on them; using my hand pawpads, digging in as deep as I could with my claws before prying them apart. No dice. The doors wouldn’t open. For a moment, I considered throwing something through the glass … but that thing back there would hear it, and I’d step on the glass with my bare feet trying to get out.

I still needed food before I could do anything else. I looked at the gift shop entrance, but the sign said “closed” and it was probably locked up. I tried it anyway, before looking back at the door to the stairwell. What other choice did I have? I sighed, one ear still perked toward the hallway.

But where could I go to get something to eat? Then I remembered visiting my great-aunt at the nursing home, and how the nurses’ station out in the hall had cartons of dry mixes. And cans of nutrition drinks and the like.

I carefully opened the door, and picked up the memory card before pulling myself back up the stairs.

What I wouldn’t give for an elevator, I thought, as I pulled myself up the rest of the way to the first landing. I couldn’t feel my stomach or my misshapen feet anymore, just numbed masses of pain. My heart felt like it was going to give out, too, although that was probably because of what’d happened downstairs. At least the voice on the card was being quiet.

I pushed the heavy crossbar on the door, leaning into it until the door opened enough for me to slip inside. Sure enough, there was a nurse’s station, and while the chair was way out in the walkway the shelves looked pristine. I wheeled the chair back into the station, then climbed up on the counter and started opening cabinets, peering around paperwork to try to find something that looked edible.

Then I heard a door creak open, and I jumped and nearly fell off the counter. But a second later I realized it’d sounded recorded, and that it’d come from the card I’d set down next to me. I sighed.

“Going to have to figure out what to do with you … ” I muttered, as I found what I was looking for. I pulled out the cardboard box of brand-name “balanced nutritional drink,” feeling loose cans clanking inside of it. Then I set it down on the counter, before hopping down and taking my dull claws to the box’s seams.

As I got out a can and fumbled with its tab, I found myself wondering if I’d be able to digest this. Shouldn’t I be looking for something made for zoomorphs, instead? Then my stomach began to tighten again, just as I got the tab open, and I put the can to my muzzle and drank greedily. It tasted like vanilla chalk; it spilled down my chin onto my dirty hospital gown. I didn’t care. It was the first food-resembling-thing I’d had in I didn’t know how long.

I started to get out another can, when I heard a door opening down the hall. And this time it took me a second to realize it wasn’t coming from the card.

Something took two deep sniffs of the air, so loud I could hear from this end of the hall. Then it growled, a bass rumble that shook the floor.

It sounded like angry purring.

The thing snorted, and stepped towards the landing where I was at, claws clicking on the floor. And I realized I was just standing there, still messy and leaning against the counter. It was like I was seeing myself from far away. I was so scared that I couldn’t move, could just watch myself shake in third-person mode and feel my heart pounding inside.

There was so much tension and nervous energy in me that if I moved, I knew I’d just freak out. I’d scream and run and bounce off the walls, and claw at the windows as I got eaten. Or would I? I could feel another impulse, alien and familiar at the same time. And as I looked at the desk in the nurse’s station, the space underneath started to look like a burrow. Or den.

I dove silently into it, muscles tense and movements as precise as I could make them, just stopping myself from hitting the side right as the thing stepped out. There was an inch or two between the side of the long, L-shaped desk and the floor, and I could see claws the size of my fingers … on misshapen, nearly-furless paws the size of my head.

I went through every swear word I knew just watching those giant paws, and hearing the thing they belonged to taking deep sniffs of the air. It growled again, and I couldn’t do anything but watch and wait for it to find me. My heart didn’t even let up when it started to turn back around and go back down the hall …

… but when the voice on the card started up again, I nearly jumped.

“Okay … ” The voice sounded out of breath. “I think that confirms my suspicions!”

I couldn’t hold still anymore; could only try not to bump into anything while I was shaking, watching the thing’s balance shift on its paws. Seeing matted fuzz on the tip of its pasty white tail, swishing in and out of my vision.

“That virus is mutating fast … already it’s making them into some more advanced form of life. Where by ‘advanced,’ of course, I mean ‘more than a match for the rest of us.’ And why shouldn’t it be?”

The growling started again.

“After all, virii can evolve faster than macrobiotic life. And this one’s like a super-virus. It copies and retains genetic traits from all the animals that host it. And now that it’s spread through infected humans as well, it’s making some rapid progress!”

The pawpads came towards me, turning around the corner of the desk, and I held my breath and tried to press myself against the inside of the desk without making a sound. I didn’t look — I couldn’t make myself — I just tracked it with my ears as it walked past me, up to where I’d left the card on the counter behind the desk.

“The only thing that makes sense now is for me to-”

Run.

I wanted to be stealthy. I wanted to somehow do a Metal Gear Solid right behind the thing’s back, and ninja out into the hallway while it was distracted. (What I would’ve given for a cardboard box!) But I couldn’t. My nerves were too shot, my muscles were too tense, and I was too panicked to do anything but hide there trembling or run like heck. No. I’d hid long enough.

Of course, it noticed. It made a noise like a growling bark, and I heard and felt it turn towards me as I skidded around the corner into the hallway. Doors were open, doors were closed, claws were clicking behind me, no time to think. I grabbed the inside of one of the open doorframes to check myself, then flung myself into the room and shut and locked the door. It looked like the room I’d woke up in, except that it was even more of a disaster. There was a mess of some kind on the bed, and flies buzzed up from it in the window light. The IV rack was overturned, and there was a smashed EKG machine nearby. Had someone been sick? Had they gotten eaten? Was I next?

Probably.

It’s right behind you, my instincts said, as its footsteps stopped outside the door. I held my breath, knowing this was my last chance.

Then it pounded the door, loosening hinges and throwing me forward away from it. I almost fell onto the mess on the bed, but I deflected myself off the mattress and stumbled into the wall, pressed up against it with eyes shut. My fur was standing on end, and all of my strength was leaving me. This is the end, I thought.

I’m so bad at this game.

The door smashed, splintering open, and the thing snorted as it tore it aside. I could feel its eyes on me, I could smell its breath in the room, and the worst part is? I could still hear the guy on that card going on.

“It’s like I’ve always said.”

Big, powerful footstep.

“If there was a zombie apocalypse … ”

Another footstep. I could hear the creature’s weight shifting as it stepped over the door, could almost feel its tail swishing to balance.

” … the zombies would become the dominant ‘life’ form in under a decade.”

It stopped, right above where I’d curled to the fetal position. And I realized I had like a second to decide if I wanted to look before it ate me.

I chickened out. I squeezed my eyes even tighter. But then I felt something tiny drop onto my headfur, and I realized that it was the card. “My bunker isn’t completed yet,” the voice on it said, “so I guess there’s just one thing to do. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em!”

A long second passed, before I looked up.

It was wearing night-vision goggles.