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- >The forest has an odd lull to it
- >No birds chirping
- >No squirrels skittering
- >No bugs screaming
- >Even the wind seems dead
- >But at least you're away from goddamn Aum Shinrikyo
- >You've been walking for a about an hour
- >Ought to be a few miles away by now
- >Maybe a little less on these stubby little legs
- >Your stomach grumbles
- >Did you even eat last night?
- >No, you didn't
- >Probably for the best, who knows what horrors they laced those onions with
- >You've come across a small clearing and
- >O shit, is that a potato plant?
- >You hurriedly dig at the small white flower, pulling it out when the dirt is loose enough
- >Score
- >They're tiny little bastards, but they're edible
- >Probably
- >Looks kinda like a peanut crossed with a tomato
- >You bite a single spud directly from the root
- >Tastes like sand
- >The potatoes weren't very filling
- >And you don't have any water to wash the sandy taste out
- >It's been a few hours and the flavor still lingers
- >It's infuriating
- >At least with rotten dumpster food you get that special sourness you can't get anywhere else
- >You don't even mind the food poisoning anymore
- >Hell, at times the moldy fruit even tastes better than otherwise
- >But this
- >This is terrible
- >Not even accented by anything, like a hint of body odor or the methane of rat droppings
- >It's just straight up sand
- >Maybe that's what muslims have to deal with
- >Maybe that's why they're always getting into trouble
- >You'd be pretty angry, too, if you had to deal with this all the time
- >Something squirms underneath your foot
- >You yelp and leap off, expecting to have crushed a cockroach or stepped on a snake
- >But nothing seems to be there
- >You eye it for a long time, to no avail
- >This particular patch of ground does seem a bit higher than the surrounding forest floor, though
- >Inching closer, you cautiously nudge the pile of leaves and sticks that cover the topsoil
- >"Who?"
- >Your heart sinks and you are frozen in fear
- >"Mghmm... mhmm..."
- >The leaves bulge and writhe as the figure underneath reveals itself
- >"Eugh... who's that?"
- >Selkie yawns before you, simultaneously stretching out a foreleg and scratching the back of his head
- >You clutch your chest as you let go of breath you didn't even know you were holding
- >He stares with a sluggish intensity at the surrounding foliage, drinking in every last angle and curve
- >His gaze moves from the leaves to your hooves, slowly traveling up to your eyes and locking you in glaring scrutiny
- >His eyes soften and he chuckles lightly
- "Uh, sorry about stepping on you and stuff, Iyuh, I didn't see you there..."
- >He chuckles again
- >"Pshhh... what?"
- >He licks his lips, dry and cracked and covered in humus
- >The dirt seems to somewhat surprise him, and he curiously crunches on the particles with an open mouth
- >Satisfied, he wipes his tongue off on his foreleg, unaware of its own filthiness
- >Somewhere distant a bird is chirping
- >You take a deep breath as your heart finally settles
- "So.... What's with the dirt nap?"
- >As the words leave your mouth you become suddenly aware of how suspicious this is
- >He could easily be some kind of skinwalker or wendigo or some other native american bullshit
- >Lying in wait for a hapless, unknowing victim
- >Your heart flutters to life
- >He opens his mouth halfway, stops, closes it, and sniffs the air
- >It must have killed the real Selkie and is just now getting acquainted with its new body!
- >You tense up, your mind racing with action plans
- >"Where's... uhhh...-"
- >He bites his lip and sucks in a sharp breath
- >You begin to slowly back away, feeling the ground for a rock or a thick branch, something to use as a weapon
- >"What did... where did... uhhhhhhhm..."
- >You lock your grasp on something hard, lumpy and round, presumably a rock
- >"Do you know... where... Sssss-.... Stumps? Stumpy... Stump-"
- >With lightning speed, you bring up your foreleg and sling the rock at DoppelSelkie's forehead
- >You weren't really aiming, though, you just had an idea of where you wanted your projectile to go and your body went on automatic
- >Miraculously, it slams right smack in between his eyes, meeting the flesh with a dull crack
- >He falls backwards, letting out a single grunt as he hit the ground
- >You crouch down for a moment, ready to punce if the monster had any ideas about getting back up
- >Does this count as interacting?
- >Satan said not to interact with spirits, right?
- >Are monsters spirits?
- >But he also said not to die, so does defending yourself from spirits count as not dying, or interacting?
- >DoppelSelkie lets out a quiet groan
- >You begin to inch closer to the writhing body
- >You've never seen a dead skinwalker
- >You might be the first person to do so!
- >Definitely the first to kill one
- >Could their collective secret weakness be rocks?
- >It appears so, as the image of Selkie does little but slowly squirm and groan
- >There's a sizable gash on his forehead, slowly oozing blood over his eyes and down the side of his face
- >The side of /its/ face
- >Skinwalkers have no real gender
- >As you come into its field of view, it regards you with pained confusion
- >Yeah, you sure got the jump on this fucker
- >But alas, it could be a farce
- >It's entirely possible that he's...
- >That it's taking advantage of your sudden overwhelming victory
- >Waiting to jump the minute you let your guard down
- >Wearing your skin like a latex suit
- >That would be just like a skinwalker, employing the ol' switcharoo
- >Such a cowardly tactic
- >But what matches cowardice, other than overwhelming cowardice?
- >It blinks at you and you take off without further thought
- >It's a lot easier to celebrate your victory with the skinwalker far behind you
- >Now that it's not staring you in the eyes, you swell with pride at having bested such a terrifying creature
- >Actually, if a skinwalker could be brought down with a measly stone, was it really that terrifying?
- >Surely your fear all these years must have been irrational
- >Native Americans are pussies
- >You've noticed that your gait has turned from its typical skulk into a confident trot
- >In fact, you've felt this overwhelming euphoria ever since the encounter
- >How quickly in this childish body you have overcome a beast of myth hundreds of years old
- >You can't stop replaying the last moments in your mind
- >The fear in its eyes as you sized up your prize
- >And you can't help but feel ashamed for leaving it alive like that
- >No doubt it will die helpess and pathetic, if not from exposure or hunger then picked apart by woodland scavengers
- >Perhaps other skinwalkers
- >How much better would it have felt to end it yourself?
- >And how would roasted skinwalker taste?
- >You aren't sure how you'd start a fire, having never done so without matches or a lighter
- >But the flesh of an ultimate predator shouldn't carry too much in the way of diseases
- >And if it does, then who's to say Satan wouldn't fix you up with magic?
- >He did seem fairly interested in your survival
- >Unless that was a trick so you would kill yourself with your own hubris
- >Careful, Icarus
- >Maybe you should just stick to foraging
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