Galaxy's Edge Magazine: Issue 7: March 2014 by Mike Resnick;C. J. Cherryh;Steve Cameron;Robert Sheckley;Martin L. Shoemaker;Mercedes Lackey;Lou J. Berger;Elizabeth Bear;Brad R. Torgersen;Robert T. Jeschonek;Alexei Panshin;Gregory Benford;Barry Malzberg;Paul Cook;L. Sprague de Camp Page A
Tags: Speculative Fiction, Darker Matter, strange horizons, Lightspeed, Asimovs, Locus, Clarkesworld, Analog
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danger of the stone circle as she’d blundered in—she was beginning to make some sense of their language. She understood at least two-thirds of what was being said now, and could usually guess the rest.
These people seemed to be stuck at some kind of feudal level—had been overrun by some higher-tech invaders the generation before, and were only now recovering from that. The hereditary rulers had mostly been killed in that war, and the population decimated; the memories of that time were still strong. The man who’d stopped her had been on guard-duty and had mistrusted her appearance out of what they called “the Waste” and her strange clothing. When she’d transformed in front of his eyes, he must have decided she was some kind of witch.
Glenda had soon hunted the more easily-caught game out; now when hunger drove her, she suppl e mented her diet with raids on the villager’s livestock. She was getting better at hunting, but she still was far from being an expert, and letting leopard-instincts take over involved surrendering herself to those i n stincts. She was beginning to have the uneasy feeling that every time she did that she lost a little more of her humanity. Life as leopard-Glenda was much easier than as girl-Glenda, but it might be getting to be time to think about trying to regain her former shape—before she was lost to the leopard entirely.
She’d never been one for horror or fantasy stories, so her only guide was vague recollections of fairy-tales and late-night werewolf movies. She didn’t think the latter would be much help here—after all, she’d transformed into a leopard, not a wolf, and by the light of day, not the full moon.
But—maybe the light of the full moon would help.
***
She waited until full dark before setting off for her goal, a still pond in the far edge of the forest, well away from the stone circle, in a clearing that never seemed to become overgrown. It held a stone, too; a single pillar of some kind of blueish rock. That pillar had never “glowed” at night before, at least not while Glenda had been there, but the pond and the clearing seemed to form a little pocket of peace. Whatever evil might lurk in the rest of the forest, she was somehow sure it would find no place there.
The moon was well up by the time she reached it. White flowers had opened to the light of it, and a faint, crisp scent came from them. Glenda paced to the pool-side, and looked down into the dark, still water. She could see her leopard form reflected clearly, and over her right shoulder, the full moon.
Well, anger had gotten her into this shape, maybe anger would get her out. She closed her eyes for a moment, then began summoning all the force of that emotion she could— willing herself back into the form she’d always worn. She stared at her reflection in the water, forcing it, angrily, to be her . Whatever power was playing games with her was not going to find her clay to be molded at will!
As nothing happened, her frustration mounted; soon she was at the boiling point. Damn everything! She—would—not—be—played—with—
The same incoherent fury that had seized her when she first changed washed over her a second time—and the same agonizing pain sent blackness in front of her eyes and flung her to lie twitching hel p lessly beside the pool. Her left forepaw felt like it was afire—
In moments it was over, and she found herself sprawling beside the pond, shivering with cold and rea c tion, and totally naked. Naked, that is, except for the silver cat-ring, whose topaz eyes glowed hotly at her for a long moment before the light left them.
***
The second time she transformed to leopard was much easier; the pain was less, the amount of time less. She decided against being human—after finding herself without a stitch on, in a perilously vulnerable and helpless form, leopard-Glenda seemed a much more viable alternative.
But the ability to switch back and forth proved to be very
These people seemed to be stuck at some kind of feudal level—had been overrun by some higher-tech invaders the generation before, and were only now recovering from that. The hereditary rulers had mostly been killed in that war, and the population decimated; the memories of that time were still strong. The man who’d stopped her had been on guard-duty and had mistrusted her appearance out of what they called “the Waste” and her strange clothing. When she’d transformed in front of his eyes, he must have decided she was some kind of witch.
Glenda had soon hunted the more easily-caught game out; now when hunger drove her, she suppl e mented her diet with raids on the villager’s livestock. She was getting better at hunting, but she still was far from being an expert, and letting leopard-instincts take over involved surrendering herself to those i n stincts. She was beginning to have the uneasy feeling that every time she did that she lost a little more of her humanity. Life as leopard-Glenda was much easier than as girl-Glenda, but it might be getting to be time to think about trying to regain her former shape—before she was lost to the leopard entirely.
She’d never been one for horror or fantasy stories, so her only guide was vague recollections of fairy-tales and late-night werewolf movies. She didn’t think the latter would be much help here—after all, she’d transformed into a leopard, not a wolf, and by the light of day, not the full moon.
But—maybe the light of the full moon would help.
***
She waited until full dark before setting off for her goal, a still pond in the far edge of the forest, well away from the stone circle, in a clearing that never seemed to become overgrown. It held a stone, too; a single pillar of some kind of blueish rock. That pillar had never “glowed” at night before, at least not while Glenda had been there, but the pond and the clearing seemed to form a little pocket of peace. Whatever evil might lurk in the rest of the forest, she was somehow sure it would find no place there.
The moon was well up by the time she reached it. White flowers had opened to the light of it, and a faint, crisp scent came from them. Glenda paced to the pool-side, and looked down into the dark, still water. She could see her leopard form reflected clearly, and over her right shoulder, the full moon.
Well, anger had gotten her into this shape, maybe anger would get her out. She closed her eyes for a moment, then began summoning all the force of that emotion she could— willing herself back into the form she’d always worn. She stared at her reflection in the water, forcing it, angrily, to be her . Whatever power was playing games with her was not going to find her clay to be molded at will!
As nothing happened, her frustration mounted; soon she was at the boiling point. Damn everything! She—would—not—be—played—with—
The same incoherent fury that had seized her when she first changed washed over her a second time—and the same agonizing pain sent blackness in front of her eyes and flung her to lie twitching hel p lessly beside the pool. Her left forepaw felt like it was afire—
In moments it was over, and she found herself sprawling beside the pond, shivering with cold and rea c tion, and totally naked. Naked, that is, except for the silver cat-ring, whose topaz eyes glowed hotly at her for a long moment before the light left them.
***
The second time she transformed to leopard was much easier; the pain was less, the amount of time less. She decided against being human—after finding herself without a stitch on, in a perilously vulnerable and helpless form, leopard-Glenda seemed a much more viable alternative.
But the ability to switch back and forth proved to be very
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