The End of Rage

Miguel howled his pain. He writhed. Muscles, far larger than Wren's, bulged and forced her mouth open. Miguel's bones contorted.

Fear sank icy claws into Wren's flesh. Horror shredded Wren's rage. Her snout shrank. Miguel's grew. Flaxen fur erupted from Miguel's skin. Wren's retreated into her naked flesh.

Denied her strength, she fell upon her back and sprawled across the floor. She shrank into herself. Pink fingers, corn-silk tresses, soft flesh and wide, frightened stare were all hers again. Miguel threw back his hideous head and screamed his victory.

Terrified, Wren crab scrambled until she smacked into the bed. Rat-Miguel stalked her. His rabid eyes raped her gaze. Backward, she clawed her way onto the bed. Her hand clutched something. It cut her. A wicked rash clawed up her arm.

Hope surged. Miguel lunged. Wren lanced the silver blade through Miguel's chest.

He fell back. Miguel clawed at the blade trapped in his breastbone. He twisted, writhed and rolled upon the floor. His curse abandoned him. In death, his face was his own again.

Relief gnawed Wren's bladder. She flopped to the floor and crawled to Miguel's supine corpse. She gently closed his empty blue eyes. A tear trickled down her cheek.

Wren's hands shook so hard it took her three tries to un-stopper the silver flask retrieved from the ruin of her clothes. She filled it with Miguel's dying heart's blood. She filled a second and a third flask. The sage had said she'd need only a drop to banish her curse. It had taken even less to pass it to her.

Still, she wasn't about to take any chances. Not now. Not now that her lover was dead.