by M. O. McLeod
*
The girls came upon the stone museum’s entrance and stripped off their clothes. This place had become their lair where they could transform whenever they wanted to. It was cold inside until they Raptored and fully transformed. It wasn’t the open sky, but at least the girls could spread their wings and fly up and down the corridors out of sight.
Kurma and Rimselda took turns changing one piece at a time, training their brains to change their bodies on command. Rimselda had caught up to Kurma and could keep one arm human and the other arm winged if she wanted to, but Kurma was still ahead when it came to her metal daggers. They were twice as long as Rimselda’s and thicker.
With her night vision, Kurma spotted a big, reflective bug crawling along the wall and it freaked her out at first, until her stomach growled. She picked it up, then looked at Rimselda, who was fully transformed, her red hair lighting the room. Rimselda nodded and watched as Kurma closed her eyes and popped the bug in her mouth. Kurma grimaced and chewed. Surprisingly the bug tasted salty and crunchy, like she was eating a whole sunflower seed, shell and all.
Kurma smacked her lips together and laughed at her fear. “I thought it would taste worse than that. But seriously, that little bug isn’t going to sustain me for long.”
“I can’t imagine looking for insects all day to survive,” Rimselda said. When she had learned she was a Raptor, she had naïvely assumed her life would be better. In reality nothing had changed. She was still out begging every day, still sharing beds with her flat mates. Now she would have to eat bugs to survive. She was beginning to regret ever bumping into Kurma.
“There’s got to be another kind of nourishment that will sustain our bodies,” Kurma thought out loud.
“I think we need to tell the roommates,” Rimselda said.
Kurma didn’t like that idea because they would all probably want to be like her, and she didn’t like them enough to make them into Raptors. There was one or two she might consider, but that was it.
Regardless, Rimselda had made her mind up about spilling the beans. She was tired of avoiding everyone and sitting far away so she wouldn’t touch any of them. She was tired of keeping the secret, and her starvation was distorting her mind. Even if Kurma said no, she would still tell the girls.
Kurma could tell Rimselda had made her mind up without her. There was no point trying to argue about it. At the moment she had nowhere to go, and it would be to her advantage to keep Rimselda happy. If she wanted to tell the girls then so be it. As long as she didn’t change them into Raptors, Kurma couldn’t be too upset. She would determine when and if that would happen—not Rimselda.
19.
The Simplest Touch