Blood on Sand

A PILE OF BONES

Zoe winced at the pain that started in his jaw and dug into his skull like evil tentacles. He could tell something was different even before he opened his eyes. He might be in pain, but he was lying on something soft, and it was warm. Not as warm as he preferred but warmer than he'd felt since they captured him three and a half years ago. He thought maybe it was a dream, so he didn't open his eyes just yet. Instead he let out a deep breath, flicked his tongue, and felt himself sink farther down into the mattress. There was life in the room, plants, and humidity.

"I know you're awake."

Zoe snapped his eyes open and shuddered when the light hit them. There was a dark-haired man with a five o'clock shadow standing in the doorway. Zoe had a fuzzy thought of having seen him before. Maybe this was the head beast in his human form. He seemed a bit small though—not that he'd seen the Alpha in human form, at least not while knowing it was the Alpha—but he'd always pictured him as a big bear of a man.

"If you're healthy enough to stare, then you're healthy enough to change."

Zoe hesitated. He didn't want to change. In his warrior form, he had the pretence of being able to protect himself; his human form was pathetic. At least they hadn't taken off the tunic he was allowed to wear during fights, not that he had any modesty left, but it was a bit reassuring to know that he wouldn't be naked in front of the top dog.

He closed his eyes and tried to focus on centring himself. His tongue flicked out again, smelling the air. His scales sank into his body as the human skin overgrew them, the bones in his face repositioned themselves, his claws and toes retracted, and the tail regressed one little bit at a time until only a human tailbone remained. A heated wave flushed over him. His panting had nothing to do with discomfort, there was no pain in changing, but the extra strain it put on his body was more than he was able to endure. The room blurred before his eyes, and he closed them. He really was a sorry excuse for a warrior now.

He didn't want to feel shame, but as he heard the man at door gasp he knew that not even his tunic could hide the terrible state he was in. Well, they were the ones who'd made him like this, so they could gasp all they wanted.

"Are you ill?"

He didn't know what to make of the bewildered tone in the man's voice because no one had seemed to care before. "No."

"But you're a skeleton."

"Heroin chic was considered pretty once."

"Uh-huh. I'll go get the Alpha now. Don't move."

So, not the head beast then. He really should move, but escaping was out of the question even with the heat helping him to move more easily. He flicked his tongue and then almost bit the tip off. He had to stop doing that in human form; he had a functioning nose for crying out loud. They would think he was insane if he went around licking the air—not that he planned to stick around for long.

He could die in this room. It wasn't ideal. He would've wanted it a little warmer and a little more humid, but for the first time in years, he wasn't thirsty. His skin soaked up the moisture in the air. He wished he'd taken a look at his skin before changing; he bet it'd been looking healthier than it had in ages.

****

Wojtek held up a pink Cymbidium orchid to examine the potting mix. Argh, too dense again. He'd have to re-pot it or the roots would starve for air. He put it back down and lifted the next pot, a Cattleya, from the bath where he'd been watering them. It looked okay.

"Wojtek."

He didn't turn around. He'd heard Satul coming up the stairs and guessed it meant their creepy-crawly was coming around. "Hm."