Blood And Iron
Blood And Iron
“It was still dark, the night air cold through the open window and scented heavily with the sea. Keith tautened, head up, weak human ears straining as if he could still hear the scrape of scales on stone, the rustle of leathery wings unfolded and resettled. The hiss of the waves and the susurrus of wind across the window sash could have been a giant, rhythmic breathing. His breath steamed into the air as he lifted his head; in the moonlight, the shadows moved as if they had weight.
“Mist?”
Nothing. Silence, and the ocean moving below, the chuckle of the waves against the stone. The clouds blew across the moon like a great eye closing, and Keith rolled out of bed and padded to the clothes chest in the testicle-shrinking cold. He pulled out wool socks and thick trousers, a rag wool sweater that he dragged on over a thick cotton turtleneck. The trousers needed braces; he edged the sweater up around his shoulders to get them on and then tugged it down again.
It would have been easier to sh...ift into a wolf, of course— but hardly conducive to a lengthy visit if he arrived naked and chilled to the bone.MoreLess
“Mist?”
Nothing. Silence, and the ocean moving below, the chuckle of the waves against the stone. The clouds blew across the moon like a great eye closing, and Keith rolled out of bed and padded to the clothes chest in the testicle-shrinking cold. He pulled out wool socks and thick trousers, a rag wool sweater that he dragged on over a thick cotton turtleneck. The trousers needed braces; he edged the sweater up around his shoulders to get them on and then tugged it down again.
It would have been easier to sh...ift into a wolf, of course— but hardly conducive to a lengthy visit if he arrived naked and chilled to the bone.MoreLess
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