It didn’t help. The itching grew worse until it burned. It moved slowly from his lungs to underneath his skin right on top of the breastbone. His fingertips tickled, muscles in his forearms seethed in pain. A deep chuckled bounced between his eardrums. Beads of sweat formed on his brow. His hair grew damp. Nausea built in his stomach. He knew this was what had happened at Yeller’s house. A roar in the base of his skull almost had him crumpling to the ground. His vision blurred a crimson red.
“I heard about a research plant in New York City that was specializing in RWE effect antidotes. They were just starting, so I don’t know how far they got, even if they weren’t hit by a bomb, anything could have happened to them. There aren’t too many supplies down in NY right now. Too many bombs have hit that place to know…,” Benj collapsed as his throat closed off around gutteral resonance. His hand went up to his throat. He gasped, struggling to breath.
The world grew taller. Pain slashed unmercifully through Nat’s body, gripping and ripping at his organs and bones and flesh. The roaring increased, letting itself rip from his body. Fur pushed through his pores in a thick mat, wet and blood soaked. Nerve endings pulsed and throbbed. His teeth sharpened and lengthened into long canines. His jaws, in what felt like an eternity, extended in a crunch of bones. His tongue changing into a thin strip. In the last of it he felt his spine, humerus, and femurs crack and shift into a new, more compact, wolf form.
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