“Come on, we’re almost there!” I tugged on his arm . . . and felt fur sprouting underneath my fingertips. Thick fur.
“Almost wh-wh-where? I can’t see . . . I can’t see anything . . . I really don’t feel so g-good, Aileen.” His voice was cracking through his words, getting deeper, sounding less and less like a human, more like a wolf’s low growl.
Where were my friends? Why didn’t I hear them or see their flashlights? I thought we agreed on a signal . . . two flashes when I was getting close by to where they’d set up the stage. Maybe I’d gone the wrong direction? I started to feel very confused. I started to panic.
I tugged on his arm harder, dragging him along the barely visible path. His arms were covered in fur now and had started to elongate, bend differently. Fuck, fuck, fuck . . . how much longer until he loses control and turns on me?
I tried to do what I could to stop my increasingly terrified chain-worrying spiral from spiraling out of control — after all, he was the one who was going to lose control tonight. Not me, no . . . definitely not me!
To my left I heard a click I prayed was a flashlight. I whipped my head around to look and, thank goddesses, it was. We really were almost there. That “stroke of bad luck” was still just affecting him!
TO BE CONTINUED . . .
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