Anne and the Hidden world
Then, out of nowhere, Dale appeared.
With a single fluid motion, Dale’s sword cut through the fox’s charge, the blade glinting as it caught the fragmented sunlight. The fox fell to the ground, blood pooling around its still form. Relief flooded me for a fleeting second—until the body began to convulse.
I stood rooted to the spot, my breath hitching as the fox’s fur receded, its body twisting and snapping grotesquely. Bones elongated, reshaping with horrifying clarity, until the creature on the ground was no longer a fox, but a man. Pale skin stretched where fur had been, fresh scars crisscrossing his body. His once glowing eyes now dimmed, replaced by an expression of agony and fear. He gasp
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