Up here, between the jagged teeth of the Arma Mountains, the air was colder than the rest of the Night Court realm that stretched far below, causing a shiver to rake its way across the rogue’s scarred coat. Despite winter being several moons away, a lazy frost coated the craggy mountain side, gleaming beneath the silvery low-light and making the climb somewhat treacherous. Another reason the rogue hoped she would not be disturbed.
Tipping her head to the sky, the moonlight illuminating her face, Castalla closed her eyes briefly, breathing in the brisk night air. She searched within herself for the pull of her magic, the heart of her wolf that always beat in tandem with her own. It was worryingly faint. But it was there no less. Where usually the shifter need only tug lightly on the thread and the change would instinctually wash over her, now she had to force it, to delve deep within the core of her powers and drag her wolf from its slumbering depths. And drag she did, until she felt the familiar, paralysing click of her bones breaking and reforming, her muscles tearing and strengthening. Slowly, so painfully slowly, her body changed as she crashed to her knees, gasping with pain. Teeth lengthened, forming dangerous points, her spine shifting creepily beneath her pale skin as her ears became thicker, furrier.
And then it stopped. As though she had reached a threshold she could not cross, her shift stopped. Breathing heavily, on her knees in the frost-laden dirt she dropped the thread, unable to force her phase to complete. Hesitantly, her spine straightened, her ears returning to their normal shape, only her teeth remained elongated as she drew air gratefully into her lungs. Nausea roiled in her gut, aching and powerful, her breathe coming out in pained gasps as she felt exhaustion take a hold, front hooves braced in the dirt as though her body were too heavy to hold. She felt weak and wrong, as though she didn’t fit in her skin, as though she were a foal trying to shift for the first time.
@Odeen
