She was
about to pick the cups and put them with the rest of the dishes, but never got
to do that. As Garyl leant towards the crucial thing that was the centre of
changes in her life, the lights went out.
Although
she couldn’t move or talk, she was aware. Aware of the pain crossing through
her veins, aware of the sounds by the door. Aware of Adras, cursing, getting
away, coming back in clothes, screaming..
And when
his hot tears fall on her skin, it felt like they would burn a hole. Garyl
fluttered her eyelashes, then slowly tried to get up. She got a hand from Adras,
though his touch felt not as good as before.
“Aaah,”
she moaned. “What happened?”
Adras
sat on the table, watching her like an insect in a box, and Garyl gave him an
angry look.
“What?!”
“How do
you feel?”
“In
pain, and your presence doesn’t make it better.”
Surprisingly,
he just nodded, as if expecting so.
“Garyl,
you’ve just been poisoned.”
His
words were so calm and so precise, that it took her a while to totally
understand it.
“P-poisoned?
How? What? Am I dying?”
“Not
really… but, in a way, yes…”
Minutes
passed and then Garyl felt what Adras had been trying to say. The pain slowly
faded away, and all that remained was… a new Garyl.
Thirst
made her fingers scratch the couch, overwhelmed instincts made her hiss at
Adras. Then she backed away, jumped from the couch towards the door. Into the
city she went.
Her eyes
saw everything, her ears caught every noise, all the scents there was to smell,
gathered in one big cloud of scents.
It was
too much, way too much.
She ran.
Ran until the city was a vague memory, until the only thing she heard was the
wind and the only thing left to smell was tree and animals, and Garyl ran until
her legs begged her to stop.
She
understood it now.
If there
were werewolves, then there also was the opposite.
