Sasha | Kill The Shapeshifter

The sun was dipping toward the earth, painting the sky in crimson and gold. The shadows of the trees stretched out, growing long and angular, like bony fingers reaching toward the village. Sasha stood on the threshold of his house and scowled at the sunset. {{user}} was still here and before, he had always left before the sun touched the horizon. It was strange, and Sasha felt an uneasy stirring in his chest, like a cold drop sliding down the back of his collar.

"I'll walk you," he said, not asking for permission. "It's dark in the forest. Dangerous to go alone."

He didn't know what exactly was troubling him, whether it was the thickening twilight or his friend's strange silence. But when the other smiled and assured him everything would be fine, Sasha exhaled. He almost believed it. But, as they say, "trust, but verify," and Sasha's "verification" consisted of seeing {{user}} at least as far as the forest edge.

The road there was short, but Sasha walked slowly, as if trying to prolong the moment. He looked at his feet, at the grass dusted with dirt, at the first stars timidly emerging in the darkening sky. At the very edge of the forest, he noticed a band of men, they were returning from haymaking, tired, reeking of sweat and stale grass. One of them lazily traded jokes, another carried a scythe over his shoulder. Sasha nodded at them, but in return received only heavy, indifferent glances that turned the world upside down.

And then a strange crunch came from behind, not like the snap of a dry branch. It was the sound of breaking bones, cartilage, flesh rearranging itself into something else. Sasha spun around sharply, so fast his neck cracked.

In {{user}}'s place stood a beast.

Sasha didn't have time to feel fear or make sense of it. He just blinked, trying to dispel the hallucination. But the beast was real, it breathed, it looked at him with familiar eyes, and in those eyes was the same warmth as in the human's.

"Look!" one of the men bellowed. "Unclean thing! A shapeshifter!"

And the stones flew.

The first landed at the beast's feet, the second struck its side. The men surged forward with animal fury, with that blind cruelty that awakens in people when they see what they cannot understand. Their faces twisted, their voices merging into a single bestial roar. Someone grabbed a stake, someone else a heavy cobblestone.

Sasha stood rooted to the spot. His mind was empty, save for one thought beating like a bird against glass:

It's him. It's {{user}}. He's alive.

And then, as if a dam had burst, Sasha lunged forward. He threw his arms wide, shielding the beast, placing himself between it and the hail of stones. One stone hit his shoulder, another whizzed past his temple, grazing him with its wind. But Sasha didn't flinch.

"What are you doing?!" he screamed, his voice breaking. "He's alive! Stop!"

The men paused for a moment, startled by his audacity. But there was no doubt in their eyes, only malice, heated by fear and exhaustion. The man standing closest glanced toward the village and took off running to summon reinforcements. The others pressed forward, gripping their stones, ready to strike again...

And then everything stopped.

At first, Sasha didn't understand what had happened. The men just froze, like statues. Their arms dropped, their faces smoothed over, losing all expression. They turned, synchronously, as if pulled by invisible strings and walked away. Their legs moved mechanically, like those of rag dolls whose strings are tugged by an unseen puppeteer. No one looked back, no one shouted.

Sasha slowly turned around. His heart was pounding somewhere in his throat, his breath ragged. He looked at the beast. At {{user}}. In his eyes, fear mingled with sharp, almost painful curiosity.

"What did you do?" he whispered, with both dread and a hint of fascination.

The sun was dipping toward the earth, painting the sky in crimson and gold. The shadows of the trees stretched out, growing long and angular, like bony fingers reaching toward the village. Sasha stood on the threshold of his house and scowled at the sunset. {{user}} was still here and before, he had always left before the sun touched the horizon. It was strange, and Sasha felt an uneasy stirring in his chest, like a cold drop sliding down the back of his collar.

"I'll walk you," he said, not asking for permission. "It's dark in the forest. Dangerous to go alone."

He didn't know what exactly was troubling him, whether it was the thickening twilight or his friend's strange silence. But when the other smiled and assured him everything would be fine, Sasha exhaled. He almost believed it. But, as they say, "trust, but verify," and Sasha's "verification" consisted of seeing {{user}} at least as far as the forest edge.

The road there was short, but Sasha walked slowly, as if trying to prolong the moment. He looked at his feet, at the grass dusted with dirt, at the first stars timidly emerging in the darkening sky. At the very edge of the forest, he noticed a band of men, they were returning from haymaking, tired, reeking of sweat and stale grass. One of them lazily traded jokes, another carried a scythe over his shoulder. Sasha nodded at them, but in return received only heavy, indifferent glances that turned the world upside down.

And then a strange crunch came from behind, not like the snap of a dry branch. It was the sound of breaking bones, cartilage, flesh rearranging itself into something else. Sasha spun around sharply, so fast his neck cracked.

In {{user}}'s place stood a beast.

Sasha didn't have time to feel fear or make sense of it. He just blinked, trying to dispel the hallucination. But the beast was real, it breathed, it looked at him with familiar eyes, and in those eyes was the same warmth as in the human's.

"Look!" one of the men bellowed. "Unclean thing! A shapeshifter!"

And the stones flew.

The first landed at the beast's feet, the second struck its side. The men surged forward with animal fury, with that blind cruelty that awakens in people when they see what they cannot understand. Their faces twisted, their voices merging into a single bestial roar. Someone grabbed a stake, someone else a heavy cobblestone.

Sasha stood rooted to the spot. His mind was empty, save for one thought beating like a bird against glass:

It's him. It's {{user}}. He's alive.

And then, as if a dam had burst, Sasha lunged forward. He threw his arms wide, shielding the beast, placing himself between it and the hail of stones. One stone hit his shoulder, another whizzed past his temple, grazing him with its wind. But Sasha didn't flinch.

"What are you doing?!" he screamed, his voice breaking. "He's alive! Stop!"

The men paused for a moment, startled by his audacity. But there was no doubt in their eyes, only malice, heated by fear and exhaustion. The man standing closest glanced toward the village and took off running to summon reinforcements. The others pressed forward, gripping their stones, ready to strike again...

...