was as tall as a tree.
Pain made him shut his eyes. He panted for air when the ache in his right arm grew in intensity. The bandage kept rubbing his flesh raw, and something kept pulling at his neck, as if he were wearing a collar that was a bit too tight. Reality only punched him when he made it out of the cage and something attached to him touched his ears. He blinked away the blur and saw it—a plastic funnel that distorted his side vision and directed it forward, through its cone-like shape.
No. It couldn’t be.
He mewled his complaint, limping forward with the hurt leg pulled to his chest. At least it was warm, but that hardly helped with his situation. He just wanted this nightmare to be over. What happened to him shouldn’t have been possible, yet no matter how much he wanted to deny the existence of magic, there he was—a man trapped in the body of a fox.
He sensed the familiar, musky scent before Yev rose from behind a table on the other side of the room and dashed toward him—tall like a giant, and stomping like one too.
“You’re awake,” he said when he kneeled on the wooden floor but didn’t try to pick Radek up, and slowly reached out his hand to him instead.
In the light of the fire, the scar on Yev’s face and the ripped ear looked primal, like injuries sustained in a brutal predator attack, but Radek was in pain, and Yev had taken care of him, even if he had no love for Radek the human.
Now that Radek was coming to his senses, he fought through the discomfort to focus on his new reality. There was no point contesting the existence of magic if he was living its outcome. What he needed was a way to communicate with his savior, because when he opened his mouth to speak, all he uttered was a pathetic squeak. The cone was driving him crazy already, so he poked it against the floor in hope of Yev understanding that he wanted it off.
Yev sighed, his pale face, relaxing as he slid the back of his index finger from Radek’s nose to the base of the snout. It should have been infuriating, because Radek wasn’t a pet, but it felt good, and Yev’s hand smelled of some delicious stew and potatoes, so Radek licked it, disillusioned when all he tasted was skin.
“I know, but you need to have it on. We can’t have you pick at the bandages.”
Radek huffed in frustration, glaring at the thick dressing on his right paw. Was this the universe punishing for owning a fox farm? He hadn’t known what it really looked like inside, so how was he at fault for the horrid conditions? He barked at Yev, frustrated to no end, when the man smiled until dimples appeared on his stubble-peppered face.
Would he have been so understanding and kind if he knew who he was dealing with?
Radek lowered his head, letting Yev pet his muzzle. There was nothing he could do, so he might as well let this man stay ignorant of his true identity and take care of him.
Yev exhaled and moved on to petting him along the back, all the way to the tail that still felt like an alien presence at the base of Radek’s spine. “You’ll be fine, little guy, you’ll see.”
Radek complained with a whine but rubbed his head against Yev’s forearm, in dire need of comfort. Why had this even happened to him? How did he suddenly have a new body? How could it be that he was at the mercy of someone he’d considered a nuisance and wanted to teach a lesson? His eyes met Yev’s, and he hoped they could somehow communicate through telepathy, but no such luck—he was still just a fox. A cute animal worthy of saving, but an animal nevertheless.
Yev spread his hands in a gesture Radek understood as an invitation. Dragging his frail body forward, he crawled into Yev’s arms and didn’t move when he sensed them lift him. Moments later, gravity lost against Yev’s strength, and Radek flew up, gently cradled against the warm chest that smelled of wood, moss, and flesh.
“You must be hungry.”
Radek felt like an idiot. He was being carried like a baby, the cone kept getting in the way, and he couldn’t communicate his thoughts, but Yev’s arms provided unexpected safety. Yev wouldn’t have taken him in if he wanted to hurt