The Beast Within

The Changeling: Chapter Eight

It wasn't as simple as telling the parents their daughter was an imposter.

Tension hung over the family in the days after my miraculous return. The lock on the tavern's front door was checked three times before bed. Chores were completed in suspenseful silence, as if an attack was suspected at any moment.

Sampson's obsession with the wolf continued, as did his copious consumption of ale. Angela became more protective, to the point where Moira was often found wearing a length of rope around her waist, with the other end secured around her mother.

And there was the changeling, poised and ready, keeping a watchful eye on me at all times.

I was tense, too. Every minute that passed without action was a minute wasted. Cunning had never been my strongest attribute—nor had good sense. I needed them both now, for my list of goals was short but difficult:

Expose the changeling.

Find the real Moira and bring her home.

The tavern felt less like a safe place and more like the setting for an impending battle. 

It crossed my mind more than a few times that my enemy might change me into a wolf again. I didn't know how the magic worked or if it could be summoned a second time, but I trusted that the changeling had a few tricks up its sleeve.

The hutch, I noticed, had been neglected in my absence. It was obvious the changeling had finished the other hares, and the dwelling was half torn apart, with nobody bothering to rebuild it.

Each morning I joined Sampson to set the traps, but now there was a new task added to our routine: Hunting a wolf.

I never spoke against the fruitless pursuit, but wandered through the trees with Sampson, watching in silence as the man drank himself into a state of discontent. I no longer played with Moira after my chores. Instead, I retreated into my room to rehearse my plans. Changing into the wolf, I loathed to admit, was a crucial piece.

Or rather, changing into the wolf with my control intact.

I had to keep faith that such a thing was possible.

At night, I tried to will myself into shedding my human body. The changeling could do it, so I certainly had the power, didn't I? 

Grow fur, I'd demand my body. Grow claws and teeth—now!

My body didn't listen.

Days were passing, and Moira could be slipping into further danger. I couldn't wait to master the animal. Wolf or not, the time to act had arrived.

The family ate its last dinner in silence.

There were no guests at the tavern save the one man who'd been present for my naked entrance. He had a thin build shrouded by a cloak and a forlorn face framed by messy black hair. He was the sort of person who didn't seek friendly conversation, but kept to himself and only spoke when he wanted food or drink.

A man who left things alone. I appreciated him for that.

He finished his meal and left after placing a coin on his seat.

The family was alone, and now I had my chance to strike.

"Angela," I began in my sweetest voice, "I wanted to speak with you, but I don't wish to be rude."

"What is it?"

"It seems...well...ever since I came back things have been a little different."

"In what way?"