Once Lost Lords (Royal Scales, Book 1) by Stephan Morse Page B

my other senses to find something? Not a deer, though my
hunger would probably see me through a good portion, but something
smaller. A rabbit, hopefully a fully plump one getting ready for
winter. The idea of meat set my mouth watering. I sat down and was
trying to flip that mental switch.
    This area was mine. I owned it.
    No.
    Not mine. I couldn’t picture myself as a forest creature. I
wasn’t a wolf, wasn’t an elf, just human. Granted an odd
one, but nothing special enough to fit in out here. I felt amazingly
out my depth. The only thing that had helped me focus was a simple
mission of ‘Hunt the elf’. My head rattled side to side.
Negative thoughts, disbelief, those things were useless. I had to
reset my thinking and start over. There was something closer I could
focus on instead. An entire bag of belongings.
    The pack was dumped out in shaky desperation. Leftover scraps from my
shirt were strewn about quickly. Miscellaneous contents gained new
homes under bushes and next to tree trunks. What little wood lore I
possessed told me the smell would probably scare wildlife off. In my
mind, there was a faint memory being roused. A hint on how to get
food. Perhaps providence would be with me.
    My things, my stuff in this area. It was my area now by virtue of a
smattering of belongings. A home. A temporary stay. Two nights passed
out on these woods. Slowly things clicked.
    World is dim. Unfocused. Vibrations weak. Mind tries to unwind.
Feel tangle of brush, leaves curl against each other. Diffuse trees,
tops dim. Too far. Packed dirt of the logging trail. Low branches
weighed down by discarded armor. Wires wrapped around trunks.
    This was extremely tenuous. Nearby a low growl shattered everything.
The growl switched to a male voice shouting.
    “What the hell are you doing?” His words were hard to
understand past the hunger. It was probably the same person as
earlier.
    “Hunting?” I said.
    “No, you weren’t. You were doing something.” My
head hurt too much to argue with some cocky wolf.
    “Either find me dinner or shut it.”
    “Excuse me?” The former fuzzball asked.
    “I’m very hungry, help or shut up.” I tried to
emphasize the very. Getting close to violent and hungry.
    “I’m not paid to help you, princess.”
    It took the last bit of my sanity to shove my response deep down
where it wouldn’t get me in trouble. If I wasn’t so
hungry. If I hadn’t been so deep into pack lands. If I didn’t
have other shit to do.
    I went back to what I was trying to do before he showed up. It was a
slightly quicker connection the second time. All my senses switched
to looking for food.
    Hungry. Life everywhere. Plants. Thready. Roots reach down.
Worms wiggle. Disgusting. Birds fluff and stare around. Too little.
No meat. Pathetic. Tiny wings. Something moves. Fat. Pauses in
confusion. Fur stands out against the air. Moving closer. It’s
nearby. Not as hard to see. Dinner. Easily mine, hunger makes it
mine.
    The connection grew stronger as I focused. This was not on a link
like when I was tracking. My mind was honing in on the concept that
this living breathing meal was mine. The more I thought about it the
hungrier I grew and the easier it was to see it.
    Back shudders. Body unfurls. Feels good. Burning travels from
skull to waist. Muscles long dormant, finally being used. Feel
shoulder blades tense up. Mental arms spread. Cowering tiny furry
creature. It feels me. Can’t see me. Doesn’t run. Starts
moving towards my body. As if herded. Not controlled. Doing what is
expected. Obeying the will of my hunger. Presenting itself.
Prostrating.
    Closer still. Within arms reach. I didn’t even hesitate, my
hands lashed out and twisted. Only a second passed before the life
collapsed out of its broken body. Those extra senses collapsed
inward, satisfied that my hunger would be solved.
    “What the fuck did you do?” The voice was back again,
only this time there was more to it then the judgmental tone.
    The dead