The Animals We Have Become

Musings of a Bat

Sam’s thoughts about her first change:

So I’m a bat thing now—a Cama-whatsit. Mom always thought I was strange, but she thought it was just that I was crazy. You know, seeing things that aren’t there and squirming into—and out of—places I shouldn’t be. Sometimes literally. I always was pretty boneless. Did think about running away to be a carnie, I’d have been pretty good as a contortionist, but even if they’d take me, I don’t think I’d have enjoyed being stared at. Not for that anyway.

Then I met the fairies and I thought it was confirmed. I was totally nuts. But hey, it was more fun to go with the flow and accept what they told me. Not like I had any place better to go. Mom and dad died in the border crossing. They always told me the US was supposed to be a place of acceptance, founded on the principles of money and melting pot-ism. Or something like that anyway. They thought I was nuts so they never did teach me that much.

Then I changed into a bat. That’s pretty hard to fake. There are places I can get as a bat that would be impossible as a person, and I can make out the words people are saying through all the walls in a house (and I’ve checked! I really do hear what they’re saying), so it kinda seems to confirm that maybe I’m not nuts after all.

And that leaves what… I’m the last member of a race that was supposed to be dead hundreds of years ago? And the werewolves—my new buddies(?!)—are the ones that almost killed us? I’m… not sure how to feel about that. I never knew any of this stuff, any of these people—on either side. I don’t have any real stake in this, except my existence itself. Am I supposed to get angry? Fight the werewolves, reclaim my right to exist, smash (take?) their stuff? What good would that do? They seem pretty repentent (at least the ones that even know what I am), anyway. Am I supposed to go out and get pregnant? Make lots of babies? I’m a little young for that (or so Naomi says, and she’s a doctor, or will be—says it’ll shorten my life, especially if I start so early) and it might not work anyway (something about “sustainable population numbers”—think she thought I couldn’t hear her on that one…)

So what do I do? For now, I’m just going to go along with what the werewolves say. They may not be able to help me—all of my people there may ever be—but they might be able to lead me to someone who can. And I suppose that’s what really matters.

(OOC: I took a few liberties, outlining a conversation she had with Naomi that I haven’t talked with Terri about. I’m trying to suggest that, despite her outward appearance, she has more misgivings about her place in the world at this moment than she lets on, especially as regards the werewolf characters. I figure she grew up without knowing anything about what she really was. Her mother really did think she was nuts (at least somewhat, due to her Sluagh powers of seeing through illusions/invisibility, which I figure manifested at least a little before her change).)

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Why Me

It always happens at the worst possible moments, doesn’t it?

There I was, at Max Walker’s party, celebrating his graduation. The house was packed with like the entire senior class and half of all the others. I’d finally gotten Joey Sanchez to myself and he was even touching my hand. It was nice not to be called a freak for once. When he took my hand and took me upstairs, I could hardly feel the steps under my feet. It wasn’t until he walked me into Max’s parents’ room that i realized something wasn’t right. I really should have known, no senior in their right mind would want a freshman like me. The door closed, the lights were low, and we weren’t alone. A few of the other guys who had been on the football team were there in the room, waiting. They’d been playing a little game, one of them would go down stairs, find an unsuspecting freshman and bring her up stairs, usually those that were quite a bit inebriated. I fought, I really did, but with half a dozen of them, what chance did I have.

I woke up just after sun up, clothing out of sorts, my body sore, my head pounding, my nerves on fire. I was in a dark room, the garage, I was dropped in a damned carport. The next half an hour was a bit of a blur, my only clear memory was glancing at a mirror and seeing a massive furry beast looking back, hair died purple like mine, blood dripping from its muzzle.

Once my vision stopped being washed in red, I could see what exactly I had done. All of the football players that were still at the house were gutted or wailing in pain. Several other party goers lay about the house in various states of pain or death. As I stalked through the house, it was then I saw Pikov, watching me from outside. He looked like me; jet black wolf, harsh, savage eyes. It was only when he changed and showed me how to change back, that tings started to feel normal. He took me away from the party, saying that he would have friends handle the, cleanup. We went to the air force base and I found myself among others like me, some of them had just changed, and others have been like that for a while.

I wasn’t alone any more. I may still be a freak, but at least now I am a freak with strength, with power, and with friends.

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