Corvids are a brilliant race of birds. Sometimes I wonder why no Solomonari Cohort bonded with them. But then, their smarmy comments make me realize that dealing with their attitudes probably made them unattractive. Owls are simpler creatures. Predators, keen in hearing and sight, and silent as whispers on winds.

  From the journal of Drago? Buh?scu

  A crow cawed outside the window.

  Bloody saliva bubbled at the corners of Radu’s mouth. Pink foaming bubbles slid along his cheeks as he struggled to speak. After the initial cry, Ilinca went silent, her white-knuckled grip on her husband’s broad hand stayed firm, but her lip quivered as she looked accusingly at Dragos.

  “What curse did you bring on him?”

  He fought the wry smirk that wanted to cross his face. Yes, blame the stranger, accuse the albstrig?. Instead, he shook his head, his damning hair drifting over his brow, some having shaken free of its binding.

  “I came upon him after he’d killed the bear. I wouldn’t know how to do this, even if I wanted to. The bear’s spirit has crept into him, living spirit to living flesh.”

  “Spirit?”

  “Illy?” Radu mumbled, blinking. “What happened?”

  Her attention turned to her husband, and she patted his hand, still held tightly to her. “It’s alright now, love.”

  “You had a fit,” Dragos spoke in a low, soothing tone. The bear part? Best to leave that for later.

  “I feel like I carried barrels of water on my shoulder over the mountains, uphill, both ways,” Radu grumbled, then added weakly, “I’m starving.”

  Dragos nodded absently and, out of curiosity, suggested, “Let me check your wounds to be sure nothing opened, and then we’ll eat, yeah?”

  Ilinca nodded vigorously, tears slipping down her cheeks. No doubt her heart was wrung from the situation. It was bad enough with the wounding and the seizure. What they’d both seen? Who knew what she’d do with that.

  Though, Dragos had a feeling she’d taken it better than most would have. He’d never been in this kind of situation. Animal possession of humans was exceedingly rare.

  He believed this was exactly that.

  Dragos undid the new wrappings, the brownish poultices flaking away as he peeled back the moss. The wounds were decidedly smaller. The gashes, which had been as long as his hand, had shrunk to half that size. Ilinca sucked in a terrified breath when she saw the look on his face.

  A grim line formed over Dragos's mouth, brow creased. “He is possessed.”

  The soul of a bear infested the man’s body. Part of him wanted to slink away like a gutter dog, but the scholar part of him, as usual, was fascinated. He was glad the zmeu wasn’t there to snicker at the consequences. These people’s simple lives had been altered and he saw no amusement in it. Perhaps changed forever, unless he could find a remedy.

  His gaze flicked to the hemp string around Radu’s neck. The tooth was hidden under his shirt, but—would that be it? He glanced up at Ilinca.

  “May I remove this?”

  “His lucky bear tooth? His da gave that to him,” Ilinca said with a doubtful frown.

  “You can pry my tooth from my cold, dead corpse,” Radu stated, his strange amber eyes glinting with violence.

  “Alright,” Dragos said, pulling his hands back from where they’d been creeping to take it.

  “Food.” Radu snarled.

  Dragos and Ilinca glanced at each other. Dragos nodded. Ilinca patted his hand and let go.

  “Alright, love. I’ll dish it up.”

  Radu relaxed, sighing. His weariness returned in an instant. “So bloody tired, so hungry.”

  “You’ve been healing quickly,” Dragos said, then turned to drag the chair over to the bed and sat. His gaze turned to Ilinca, who bustled about by the hearth, serving up three plates of her meat and vegetable pie. It had been a generous size, but Radu was a large man, and no doubt she’d meant to have more for the next day’s breakfast.

  “Radu,” Dragos hesitated, glancing at the man lying on his bed. “I believe you’ve got an infection, of a sort.”

  “Lumini. Well, at least I got the harvest in,” Radu grumbled.

  “It’s likely worse than that,” Dragos ventured on, squinting at the hemp thread. “You’re infected with the spirit of a bear.”

  Radu grunted, then his expression changed. Confused, he looked at Dragos and blurted, “What?”

  “Animal possession is rare. Wolves are more commonly the culprit, but…” Dragos trailed off. He bent to drag his box close. Buried in the drawers, he had a flat bit of highly polished steel. He pulled it out and offered it to Radu.

  “Bloody Umbre!” Radu shouted as he raised it to look at it. The reflective surface wasn’t quite a mirror, but it was enough to see his uncanny eyes.

  Dragos steepled his fingers, sighing heavily. His usual approach was to appease, banish, or destroy Unspoken things. This wasn’t Unspoken. Neither spirit river had any part of this. “I’m not sure how to deal with this.”

  “No. This can’t… I can’t!” Radu growled, visibly bristling.

  Dragos understood it wasn’t denial of his state. Radu didn’t doubt his own eyes. More, the man was denying his fate. It meant a change he’d never imagined, much less prepared for. His large hand clenched around the thin edges. The steel bent.

  Dragos watched with stunned horror as the steel warped as if beaten with a hammer. His jaw worked a moment, but all that escaped was, “Well…”

  Radu looked down and opened his palm. He murmured, “Oh, sorry. I—I’m very sorry.”

  Dragos sighed as the ever-burdened do, and he reached for the ruined steel. Radu handed the folded metal back, and the wanderer turned the ruined metal with a sad wonder. Its usefulness was ruined.

  Ilica brought Radu a plate heaped with food and offered Dragos another. Even at half the serving Radu received, it was more than his shrunken stomach could handle. His habit of consuming as he foraged and rarely eating his fill made the plate look like a challenge. Even so, he accepted it.

  Real food. It had been long since he’d had actual pastry of any kind, even one so simple as the crust. The filling he’d ladled in earlier was a blend of late summer vegetables and meat scraps that was likely wild game, much like the grouse he’d set to smoke and forgotten about.

  Ilinca dragged their other chair over to the other side of the bed, and there they supped, plates in their laps.

  With the first bite, Dragos groaned with pleasure.

  Despite her worries, the sound brought a pleased little grin to Ilinca’s lips. Radu, for his part, devoured. He tore at his food with a brutal gusto, shoveling it into his mouth as if feeding a giant fire. The grunting sounds he made, the dazed look in his eyes—Dragos glanced at Ilinca, who sat on her own chair, nervously nibbling at her own fare. Radu finished his plate in minutes and asked for another helping before Ilinca had taken a few bites of her own.

  Dragos observed as he picked at his dinner. Radu’s voraciousness was impressive. Ilinca’s surprised expression at the request for more was noticed. The wanderer took it all in with a remote curiosity that bordered on disturbed.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The undercurrent of his nerves flinching beneath his skin only made sense. It wasn’t safe to sit down to eat with a voracious changeling.

  When Radu emptied his plate again and looked about ready to ask for more, Dragos offered the man his plate. He’d only eaten half of what he’d been given, and his stomach was swollen and aching. Radu snatched it without a word and consumed what was left, though slower this time.

  Dragos pulled his hand back, glad he hadn’t lost it when he offered his plate.

  Ilinca glanced at Dragos. “Would you like more?”

  “I’ll burst and die, but I’d die happy,” Dragos replied. “I’ve had plenty.”

  “You’re so lean,” Ilinca clucked, looking him over.

  He shrugged, unsure of what to say.

  When Radu finished his meal, his lids drooped over his bear-like eyes. He almost looked like a man again, weary and human, lying on the bed. Radu dozed off after a few quiet moments.

  “What do I do?” Ilinca whispered, clutching her apron where she sat on the other side of the bed.

  Dragos held back a sigh. His doubts wouldn’t ease her stress. He replied, “We’ll figure it out. Try to avoid upsetting him in the meantime.”

  The bruised autumn sky fell, pulling night’s spangled curtain over the world. Ilinca set up a spot for Dragos to nest, an extra layer of rushes, and a thin blanket over top of it to help keep the prickly ends from jabbing. She blew out the lantern, the bed creaking when she climbed into it.

  Shadows lurked thickly all around, the hearth’s warm glow barely fending off the dark. It was not sleep that caught the wanderer, but thoughts. His mind paged through memories like a poorly organized reference book, looking for facts or impressions.

  He kept returning to the tooth. Perhaps it was a talisman of some kind. A spiritual focus that Radu knew nothing of? He’d ask more in the morning.

  When morning warmed the seams of the shutters, Radu woke. Dragos followed the man’s dark figure as he rose and crossed the floor with a whisper of rushes. Dawn’s light peered in, its thin paleness highlighting the man’s features.

  He’d had a beard before, but the fur seemed to have crept over him. His brown hair had changed as well, taking on a more bristly quality. The door fell shut.

  Dragos slipped his cloak off and tugged his worn boots on quickly and crept to the door. He listened for a moment. Nothing other than the twittering of birds greeting the day reached his ears.

  Hand pressed to the wood, he contemplated what to do.

  The door latch was yanked away from his fingers; his palm touched open air. He blinked up into the brutish amber eyes of the man he’d met the day before. A low, rumbling growl burst from Radu, his lips peeled back.

  Dragos jerked back at the sight of longer, pointed teeth amidst the blunt human ones. How had he not heard the man’s approach? He shook his head, frowning.

  Slowly, Radu’s strange eyes focused with recognition. He sniffed the air and nodded.

  “Oh, it’s you,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry about that.”

  “It’s alright,” Dragos replied, stepping back out of the way.

  Radu passed by him and went to throw open the shutters. Light eased into the room, as if also feeling tentative about being there. Ilinca grumbled from the bed.

  “Lumini, the morning comes too early,” she tossed over to bury her face in her pillow—then sat up with a start. Her gaze bounced from Radu to Dragos, by the door, then right back to her husband.

  “Radu, you’re looking rather…” She paused and pulled her covers up, slipping a look at Dragos.

  Dragos nodded and stepped out the door into the dewy, chill morning. Leaving Ilinca alone with Radu… he put it out of his mind. They likely needed to talk and he wouldn’t wander far. He walked along the fence for a bit, but his eyes were not on where he was; instead, they were focused on the house he circled.

  It had been glorious to sleep in the warmth. Almost too warm, but he wouldn’t complain. Although there hadn't been any frost yet, the morning's chill held promise for its inevitable arrival. He did not look forward to struggling through the winter if he couldn’t find a place.

  He longed for autumn to last just a little longer as he watched crows peck at the stubbled stalks left after harvest.

  Not all nights had been pleasant. He thought back to the night he’d spent with the girl from Lunc?re?ti and shook his head, rubbing his brow as if to erase the village from his mind. The death, the fire, and the tears.

  The wanderer returned to the house when he felt he’d given enough time for them to right themselves. He gave a gentle rap of knuckles on wood before cautiously easing the door open. Ilinca held a kettle by the hearth, frozen in place.

  Dragos followed her gaze to Radu, who scratched at his new fur. The beast was overtaking the man. He slipped in, gently closing the latch as he observed them both. Ilinca cautiously moved around the hearth, a nervous eye turned towards the large man in the chair at the table. Ilinca’s husband was looking at the back of his hand, furred to the knuckles, nails longer, and dark.

  “Radu,” he murmured.

  The man turned to face Dragos, teeth bared briefly as he snapped, “What?”

  “You are still a man. A man afflicted, perhaps, but still a man. What you hold onto is what you are. Do you understand?”

  “If I wasn’t so lights-damned itchy, I could make sense of you,” Radu snarled.

  Dragos rubbed his hand across his face, struggling to find words that could reach him. He flicked a glance at Ilinca, who, realizing she’d been staring, slowly poured hot water into a blend of florals and herbs for a bracing morning tea.

  “No matter what vexes you, remember who you are. The bear can only control you if you allow it,” Dragos said. “It may affect your feelings, but if you don’t forget you’re the master, you can overcome this.”

  Radu stopped gouging his long, black nails into his shirt, ruining it. Dragos was reasonably sure of what he’d said. A strong mind overcame many obstacles. Hardly easy, but doable.

  Stripes of fur exploded through the woven hemp. Dragos took another step back. Radu’s huge amber eyes shifted from Dragos to his wife.

  “Yes, if nothing else but for her,” Dragos murmured. He held up a hand, pawing the air. “Sit at the table, drink tea from a cup, and let the bear sleep.”

  “It’s too hungry to sleep,” Radu grumbled, but he wandered over and sat, snatching up an earthenware cup in his paws.

  To the wanderer’s eyes, the spirit pushed at the man, wrestling for control. Having seen it once, it wasn’t hard to miss. Unfortunate that he hadn’t noticed before, though Dragos couldn’t imagine how he could have helped, even then. The cord with the tooth nestled in Radu’s fur, taunting him. He desperately wanted another look at it, but Radu was possessive of it.

  An idea crept into his thoughts.

  Dragos crossed to the corner where he’d slept, where his worn traveling box sat primly in wait for his rummaging. He found what he wanted, pulling a small packet from one of the many drawers.

  Ilinca placed a plate of cold food out before Radu, who shoved his face right into the meat pie and consumed it in graceless contrast to the care with which he’d taken his tea. Dragos came up beside the furred man and showed him the packet.

  “This might relax you and ease the itchiness,” he said, then spilled some of the contents into Radu’s cup.

  At a wave, Ilinca leaned over to spill more tea over it. “Drink up, love.”

  Radu grunted, lifted his head from his plate, and sniffed the tea. He sipped it carefully, though some slid down his swelling chin. Smacking his lips, he finished the meal on his plate. “More. Please.”

  “It’s all gone, dear. I’ll have some bear stew up soon; it’s been in the pot since last night,” Ilinca placated him with sweet tones.

  Radu scratched his cheek, where his beard crept ever closer to his eye. “I should hunt, but there’s no need yet, is there? Harvest is done.”

  Dragos offered a beguiling smile too wary to be trusted. He felt its misshapen form on his face and stopped. “Sleep would be good for you. You can’t have fully healed…”

  “Have,” Radu disagreed, and pulled up his shirt. The bandages were gone, along with the gashes. Where scars refused to grow, the bristly fur had pushed through his skin. He wasn’t truly covered in fur yet, but Dragos imagined by the next morning…

  “A nap does sound lovely,” Radu said a moment later, glancing at the bed. His jaw cracked with a wide yawn, and he stood up to lumber that way.

  The herbal blend worked to lull the beast and the man. Dragos and Ilinca followed his every step with apprehensive gazes. They stayed silent until the soft rumble of snoring came from the man, who’d thrown himself into a heap on the bed.

  “His necklace—what is the story behind it?” Dragos asked, pensively watching the man sleep.

  “It was a gift from the man who raised him.” Ilinca shrugged, her hands going about her routine habits of cleaning up, her eyes locked on her beleaguered husband.

  “Hm.” The wanderer glanced at her. “It’s weirdly coincidental, the bear’s tooth and the bear. You said his father?”

  “The man who raised him. His true da died when he was knee high, and a neighbor took him on when his mum went not long after.”

  Dragos's active mind derived theories, but without any true knowledge, they could only be theories, built around coincidence and myth. There was much to the story that went unknown. With a steady look cast Ilinca’s way, he crept towards the slumbering figure. Neither man nor beast, but something in between, Radu had curled into a ball, head nestled against his arm.

  Dragos eased his knife from its sheath. A utility thing, used mainly for cutting herbs or scraping fish scales. He saw a hint of the thread he meant to cut. Watching Radu’s slack face intently, he slowly reached for the bit of cord by the man’s chin.

  Radu’s nose twitched.

  Dragos slipped a finger cautiously under the loop, easing his knife closer. His heart pounded in his throat, wishing to be done with the momentary theft. Ilinca shuffled around the table. From the corner of his eye, Dragos saw her rocking from foot to foot, hands clenched together.

  Slowly, he lifted the cord. In a moment, he could see if there were runes, or a sigil, some curse involved. The blade kissed the cord. Dragos pinched it to loop to make a clean cut.

  Radu’s strange amber eyes snapped open.

  A bear’s low roar shook the shutters in their fittings.

  albstrig? (ALV-streeguh): White witch. Barn owl. A pale ghost or evil spirit.

  zmeu (zmyeh-oo): Shapeshifter dragon.

  Umbre (UM-bruh): Shadow.

  Lumini (loo-MEE-nee): Light.

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