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Summary
Fear grips him, his heart pounding, and Laurent tries to back away from his own body, hands dragging his new weight.
His pants are in tatters, the seams split and laces ripped. Every other blink, he sees nothing but an orange outline of what used to be his legs thinning out and growing bluer by the second. Laurent takes in quick, frantic breaths. His tongue has stopped bleeding, mostly, clotted and thick in his mouth. Laurent looks up at the shaman, frowning down at him. Her whispering has stopped, her eyes normal once more. Her shoulders are slumped, and her brows furrowed.
She looks drained. Defeated. Disquieted.
In Vaskian, she asks, “Does your body still work?”