The Beast Within

The Changeling: Chapter Ten

Since giving up its ruse, the changeling had remained silent, but when Sampson and Angela disappeared it attempted an attack on the man who bought us. 

The man must have suspected it, as he nimbly dodged the fingers that tried to scratch him, then yanked on the leash and pulled the changeling to the ground.

"Amusing as your desperation is, we've got little time for it." 

He snapped his fingers, and in a shocking display of magic the skin on the changeling's face and body began to fall away. Moira's face tore down the center, revealing green beneath. The changeling fought to keep its disguise, grabbing pieces of fake skin from the ground and slapping them back onto its gruesome face.

It was no use, and in less than a minute the façade was gone, shattered into slivers that lay upon the ground like shards of broken glass. The horrid face that was left sported a hundred wrinkles and a scowl filled with gnarled, cracked teeth. Without a costume to shield it, the iron chain sunk deeper into the creature's neck and shoulders. The monster howled, but the man remained unmoved. He stood back, admiring his work, until the changeling's voice waned and its breath became labored. 

"One thing you lot are good for," the man remarked smugly, "is proving to be the most foolish entertainment."

With the first prisoner subdued, the man turned his attention to me.

"Need to get that trap off you. But first we need to make sure you won't try to run."

"How could I?" I hissed in pain. "My leg's caught."

"An animal in distress will always attempt escape, even at the cost of a limb." 

He produced a length of rope and slipped a circle of it around my neck to create a second leash. The man was so convinced that his first prisoner would not run that he dropped the end of the iron chain to administer to me. He assumed rightly, and the changeling did nothing but lay on the ground and gasp for air.

"This should keep you," the man said as he knotted the rope. 

He opened the trap and lifted my leg from it, then gently placed it on the ground. There was more pain, I found, in the releasing of the teeth than in their biting. Before I could ask what he was doing, the man smothered a paste over my skin and wrapped it in a cloth. It happened so fast that I had no clue where he was procuring his items from, but I figured a man capable of melting a changeling's skin had more than a little magic.

"My legs have all the bad luck," I mumbled to myself as I watched him work.

"What was that?" 

"Nothing."

He helped me to my feet, a surprisingly kind motion, and made sure I could balance enough to walk. When I moved it was painful, and with a heavy limp.

"Don't worry that," the man said of my altered gait, "it won't last. For now, at least, it gives me the advantage of keeping you from running away. You're lucky that trap didn't bite clear through your bones."

"Are we traveling far?" I ventured to ask.

"Not as far as you'd think. The two of you will take the lead, and I will guide your direction."

"Can't walk," the changeling groaned. "Iron's too hot! Makes us too weak to carry our weight!"

The man's answer was a hard pull that brought the changeling to its feet. It whined and complained, but began to walk all the same.

We'd barely traveled an hour when the man stopped our party. After tying our leashes to a tree, he sat against the trunk and sighed. I had no interest in speaking to him, but was curious why he needed to rest so soon.