Duthash Albyr Basque [May 5th] (Evening)
Jarmok was freightened. And bewildered. And satisfied. And pleased.
It had been a day of reckoning for the rat-man. The children were once again safe, now in Ashe's care to have the poison sucked from them again. Jarmok was glad to have been a part of bringing Rawling to justice ? it should serve as a recompense to the people of Threshold for the sheep that he had eaten on the far side of this past Venric.
But he couldn?t escape the reality that he had turned himself into a wolf. The thought reverberated in his mind. He had turned into a wolf. The obvious connection between this happening and his recent odd dreams was immediately drawn, of course. It explained his awakenings in odd places. He supposed that the logical continuation of that line drawing was that he was not limited, as Rawling had appeared to be, to morphing into only one animal. Jarmok, in a dream, had been some kind of bird. That?s when he had awakened in the tree.
Another night he had been a wolf ? the tracks around his cabin bore mute testament to that. Once again, he was some form of cat; a lynx, perhaps? Whatever the case, the rat-man appeared to be only able to turn himself into a rat, and the sickened children likewise had only rat-like forms. Jarmok had many forms that his body might take, or so it seemed.
His first fear was that he had been sickened like the children. But cold logic washed that fear away like a chill waterfall. When Jarmok had turned earlier into the wolf, he still thought like himself. He was still aware of himself and in control. Proof of that was his returning to his own person in a time that he desired. The rat-kids had stated that they did not have control over themselves. They had likened their sickness and their actions to being trapped deep within their own bodies, unable to dictate their own actions.
Not so with Jarmok. In his waking moments, Jarmok was in control of his own actions, even while in animal form. He was not sick, then. This was just another aspect of his being, he supposed. He wondered idly if others of his kind could do that. There were some in Threshold now who might know the answer to that, he realized. The gypsy girl had indicated that she knew others of his race; he felt as though he could trust her?
The fact that Jarmok had turned into this wolf out of pure desire suggested that he might have control over this?ability. He would have to investigate that. But not now. The change had given him a rather severe headache, and left him nauseas and tired. He would rest until Kossuth should rest. Tonight, he will venture out of Threshold to investigate this new ability of his. He needed to learn to control it, and as it must be an aspect of his nature, he would surround himself in nature ? where he felt most comfortable anyway ? to learn of it. He would return to his cave home where Mercer had found him. In that isolated place in the mountains around Little Threshold he might find the peace of the earth to teach him how to control this shape-changing.
Jarmok was freightened. And bewildered. And satisfied. And pleased.
It had been a day of reckoning for the rat-man. The children were once again safe, now in Ashe's care to have the poison sucked from them again. Jarmok was glad to have been a part of bringing Rawling to justice ? it should serve as a recompense to the people of Threshold for the sheep that he had eaten on the far side of this past Venric.
But he couldn?t escape the reality that he had turned himself into a wolf. The thought reverberated in his mind. He had turned into a wolf. The obvious connection between this happening and his recent odd dreams was immediately drawn, of course. It explained his awakenings in odd places. He supposed that the logical continuation of that line drawing was that he was not limited, as Rawling had appeared to be, to morphing into only one animal. Jarmok, in a dream, had been some kind of bird. That?s when he had awakened in the tree.
Another night he had been a wolf ? the tracks around his cabin bore mute testament to that. Once again, he was some form of cat; a lynx, perhaps? Whatever the case, the rat-man appeared to be only able to turn himself into a rat, and the sickened children likewise had only rat-like forms. Jarmok had many forms that his body might take, or so it seemed.
His first fear was that he had been sickened like the children. But cold logic washed that fear away like a chill waterfall. When Jarmok had turned earlier into the wolf, he still thought like himself. He was still aware of himself and in control. Proof of that was his returning to his own person in a time that he desired. The rat-kids had stated that they did not have control over themselves. They had likened their sickness and their actions to being trapped deep within their own bodies, unable to dictate their own actions.
Not so with Jarmok. In his waking moments, Jarmok was in control of his own actions, even while in animal form. He was not sick, then. This was just another aspect of his being, he supposed. He wondered idly if others of his kind could do that. There were some in Threshold now who might know the answer to that, he realized. The gypsy girl had indicated that she knew others of his race; he felt as though he could trust her?
The fact that Jarmok had turned into this wolf out of pure desire suggested that he might have control over this?ability. He would have to investigate that. But not now. The change had given him a rather severe headache, and left him nauseas and tired. He would rest until Kossuth should rest. Tonight, he will venture out of Threshold to investigate this new ability of his. He needed to learn to control it, and as it must be an aspect of his nature, he would surround himself in nature ? where he felt most comfortable anyway ? to learn of it. He would return to his cave home where Mercer had found him. In that isolated place in the mountains around Little Threshold he might find the peace of the earth to teach him how to control this shape-changing.