I yanked my hand back with all my strength. My flesh tore in the process.

  Blood streamed from the wound and dripped onto the floor. I stared first at my mangled hand, then at the crimson stains on his razor-sharp teeth—teeth like a shark’s.

  He panted heavily, as if he’d just run an entire marathon. His tongue slithered over his teeth, savoring the taste of blood.

  Once again, he rasped, “I am hungry…”

  What the hell is going on?

  I quickly hid my injured hand behind my back, wetting my brown sari(a long piece of cloth draped around the body) with blood.

  He turned toward me, his gaze unsteady and predatory. “I am…” he began.

  “Ulah, stop!” I shouted, though I knew it was useless. Whatever was happening was not normal—and I had no idea why.

  The only explanation that came to mind was that some monster had used a body skill on him, altering his biology.

  As I tried to make sense of it, Ulah lunged. I barely managed to sidestep, narrowly avoiding his attack.

  “I will break your jaw if you don’t stop!” I yelled, but my words fell on deaf ears.

  Was it the bread? I’d eaten some, too. I’d been in pain, yet I hadn’t undergone any body changes—or felt this overwhelming hunger.

  Ulah staggered like a rabid, unsteady goat, but then tripped over a chair and crashed to the ground with a heavy thud. Even the frail wooden floor trembled slightly.

  I hoped it hadn’t hurt him too much.

  Natasha stood frozen, her expression unreadable. She muttered, “Just what the hell is going on?”

  “He’s trying to eat me!” I exclaimed

  She hesitated, then said, “Hold him.”

  Without questioning her, I moved in. Ulah had barely reached his knees when I grabbed him from behind and locked his neck in a tight hold. Natasha crouched beside us, leveling her gaze on him as he clawed desperately at my arms, trying to break free.

  She studied his bloodied teeth. “Ulah, do you recognize my voice?”

  He groaned in response.

  “Pink-terra love bird?” she teased, using the nickname Caren had given him.

  Another groan was his only reply.

  I swallowed hard. “I think…it’s something to do with that bread I gave him when I got home. Maybe eating it made him a target for a monster with a body attribute?”

  “He would be dead—or in a monster’s stomach—if… wait. Bread?” She turned to me, her eyes demanding an explanation.

  “Yes…I put a roll in your hand, too, while you were asleep.”

  “Ah. I thought it was from your father.” Her voice was flat. “Where did you get it?”

  I hesitated.

  Ulah thrashed, jerking his head against my chin. I gritted my teeth and endured the pain. “A… Balash temple,” I admitted.

  Her expression didn’t change. “Why were you near one?”

  “I didn’t go inside. You told me not to, and I thought—”

  “You thought what? Don’t go inside, don’t go near, don’t get involved. Why did you twist my words when you knew exactly what I meant?”

  “I know, I know. I just thought it would be different if I didn’t actually go in. I just wanted something to eat. I didn’t think it would lead to this.”

  She bit her lip and shook her head in frustration. “Whatever. What about you? You want to start eating people too?”

  “No…”

  “How do you feel?”

  “I woke up in a lot of pain,” I said, gesturing to my hand and then my stomach. “But after that, the pain mostly subsided.”

  “I see. What about your father? Did he eat any?”

  Shit.

  I nodded. “Yeah. I completely forgot about him—I’d been too focused on Ulah.”

  “I see… It’s weird. He’s just been sleeping.” Natasha turned toward the corner where the mattress lay. “Do you think he’s just holding in the pain?”

  She looked at me. I didn't realize it was a literal question.

  “Probably? But I doubt it. He never had a high pain tolerance,” I responded.

  She shifted her weight onto her left leg—the way she always did when deep in thought. “He probably thinks it’s just the usual gas pain.”

  “Then wouldn’t he be chewing on some Kuger herbs?” I mused. Unlike Hulas, which tasted like ordinary spice, he always had one in his mouth at night and in the morning.

  “Who knows what that man thinks.”

  Ulah was still struggling, even trying to stand a few times. I hoped that whatever this was could be reversed.

  Natasha sighed, and I heard heavy, deliberate movement. Abruptly, she grabbed the table runner and yanked it off, sending baskets of fruit crashing to the floor.

  “Your father is up. Get to the door,” she ordered, balling the fabric in her hands. In one swift motion, she gagged Ulah, gestured for me to release him, and took hold of him herself.

  “I need something to drink. Fuck…” Caren’s voice sounded cracked, like shattered glass. He clutched his throat with both hands, his hunched form radiating exhaustion. Every step he took was labored yet filled with growing urgency.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  I grabbed a nearby bottle of grated dried Hulas and backed toward the door, keeping my eyes locked on him.

  I began to ask Natasha, “If we give him water, would he—”

  Before I could finish, he lunged like a massive, enraged zombie.

  Shit!

  Natasha snatched the back of my shirt and sprinted toward the door, dragging me along. We burst onto the wooden steps outside—the house elevated just enough to give us an edge. A second later, Caren’s heavy footfalls thundered after us.

  Natasha shoved me forward. I hit the dirt hard but scrambled back up instantly.

  “I am dying of thirst!” he bellowed as he charged down the steps. But before he reached the last one, he groaned and collapsed, face-first into the ground. The impact rattled through me; that back injury must have hit him like a truck.

  I turned to Natasha, my heart pounding. “Do you think they’re different enough to survive it?”

  “It?” she replied, not taking her eyes off Caren.

  “Healing.”

  Her gaze remained fixed on him as she answered, “What do you think?”

  Tch. It’s not.

  Caren stirred again. His movements were sluggish at first, but soon his pace quickened. He lifted his bloodied forehead, with crimson trickling down his chin. His forearms were bruised, yet he forced himself to stand. The moment he tried to steady himself, his balance gave out. His foot slipped, sending him tumbling toward the stairs. He barely had time to react before his back slammed hard against the edge of a step.

  A sharp cry tore from his throat—and that was all. Lucky for us.

  Natasha turned to me. “Get Marvin.” After a brief pause, she asked, “You remember where his house is?”

  “Yeah, but I can barely see anything.”

  It wasn’t pitch black like inside the house, but all I could make out were large, indistinct shapes in the murky darkness.

  “I’ll go for him then.”

  “Oh wow. You can see in the dark now?” I muttered sarcastically.

  “I have a good memory.” She handed me Ulah. “Keep an eye on them. If your father starts causing trouble, hit him in the head with a rock if you have to.”

  “What if I accidentally kill him?” I asked, adjusting my grip on Ulah as he squirmed against me, trying to sink his little teeth into my arm like a ravenous zombie.

  “Then you’d be a father killer. My little psycho,” Natasha said, already making her way down the grassy slope.

  "Nice," I murmured. In other words, I was now the Queen of the Holvious Queendom—and I had always dreamed of being royalty instead of a peasant.

  POV: Natasha

  As I walked, I kept glancing back to check on Vernisha. Her grip on Ulah was firm, and I could hear her softly humming a song he used to sing with the neighbors. The sky was clear, and I longed to soar like a bird—to feel free. But, of course, it wasn’t working out that way.

  I reached the bottom of the slope and made my way toward a modest wooden house with a garden on the right. Well, “garden” might be generous: red cabbages that were meant for sale had been half-devoured by pests. That was the scene earlier in the day, before darkness fell. Who knew? Maybe a miracle had occurred and the garden was thriving again. The fool should have listened to me and used rotten pink-terra sauce to keep the pests away.

  I climbed Marvin’s narrow, steep stairs and knocked on the door. A ridiculous talisman was stuck to it—a charm from his wife, who believed it would bring good luck and ward off Darsean cultists. I could say with certainty that it was utter nonsense.

  I knocked again, harder this time, until I heard movement inside.

  "What the hell… Who the hell—?" Palia’s voice, thick with exhaustion, greeted me. "Mervin." There was a pause, then a louder, "Mervin," followed by a shove.

  "Wh—what? What the hell are you waking me up for?" Marvin’s groggy voice joined in.

  "Someone’s at the door. Go check."

  I decided to announce myself. "It’s me, Natasha. I have an emergency—my son and husband are terribly sick."

  "Natasha?" Palia sounded startled. "Why didn’t you say that earlier?"

  I thought, I’ll wait until you get your bearings. "Good question," I muttered under my breath.

  I heard Palia get out of bed and shuffle toward the door. The handle rattled, but the door wouldn’t open. "Shit. Give me a second." Was she trying to open it without the key?

  Marvin groaned, "What did you say? I just woke up—my brain’s tired as hell, and whatever."

  Palia snapped, as if lecturing a student for the thousandth time, "Get your lazy ass up! Her family is sick!"

  "Oh, give me a damn break!"

  Light footsteps padded toward the door. "You found the fucking key?" Marvin grumbled.

  "It's hard to find anything when you have to move in darkness," Palia shot back.

  "I'm not buying any more blu-dust. It’s too damn expensive. I swear, when I meet that 'Light for All' boss, they’re gonna hear a piece of my— Oh, Palia, you dropped the key on the floor!"

  "Huh?"

  "I stepped on it. I think I did."

  I exhaled sharply. "Can you please make haste?"

  "All right, all right. Give an old man a break." The door lock clicked.

  I stepped back down the stairs as the door swung open in an arc. Marvin stood there, partially naked with a bedsheet barely covering his privates. He squinted into the darkness before spotting me. "Where’s your lamp? Are you trying to trip and break your damn neck?"

  "Didn't have the time," I replied. "Anyway, let’s hurry."

  "Put on some pants, at least." Palia tossed a pair of brown trousers and a large bag at him—both smacking him in the face.

  "Damn it." He quickly pulled the pants on, fumbling with the fit as he asked, "So, what’s the issue with them?"

  "They ate something that made them grow fangs and attack both me and my daughter," I said flatly. "And if we stand here talking, they might come after you next."

  Marvin froze mid-adjustment. He said nothing, but then Palia bolted past him, shoving him aside so hard he nearly tripped. Naturally, he panicked.

  "Did you just say fangs?" she demanded.

  I nodded. "They want to eat flesh and drink blood."

  Marvin blinked several times, his expression unreadable. Finally, he muttered, "Ha… drink? Drink what? Drink blood…?"

  "Yes."

  "Oh, for fuck’s sake." He exhaled sharply. "I want you to know—if you weren’t Palia’s good friend and Caren’s wife, I’d have shut my damn door." Under his breath he added, "Fucking scary shit. Did you piss off one of those gum-skins—"

  Palia elbowed him hard. "Stop being so disrespectful."

  "I’m not! Didn’t you just hear what she said? Gum-skin shit."

  "I did." She stepped down from the porch, nudged me forward, and glared at him. "Hurry up."

  All the way back, I had to endure Marvin’s ramblings about Caren and Ulah being cursed by some angry gum-skin priest—but I mostly ignored it.

  As we neared the house, the first sound I heard was Vernisha singing softly to Ulah while rolling a fist-sized stone around with her foot. It almost sounded like a distorted version of a song she shouldn’t know.

  Palia lifted the lamp she’d borrowed from Mary a month ago, casting a flickering glow over the scene. Marvin took a deep breath and gestured toward Caren, who lay on the ground groaning, his hands twitching like a dying man reaching for something just out of grasp.

  "Why the hell is he bleeding from the head?" Marvin asked. "And why is he moving like that?"

  "You're the doctor. Shouldn’t you be telling me that?" someone remarked.

  I didn’t say it aloud. Instead, I replied, "I told Vernisha to use stones if he threatened her."

  "Hell… How hard did she hit him?" Marvin pressed.

  I turned to Vernisha. "How hard?"

  She rocked Ulah from side to side, avoiding my gaze. "Really hard. The first time, he got a burst of strength, so I aimed for his chest. The second time... I thought he moved, but it was just a sharkcrow."

  I sighed. "And it hit him in the head?"

  She still wouldn’t meet my eyes. "Head. But that was an accident—it’s dark, and I had to rely on my ears."

  "Yeah, I know. I’m not angry."

  Marvin pulled a bowl, a spoon, and an assortment of herbs from his bag. "Looks like you did more than just make him sit down. He’s probably brain-dead."

  "Don’t be so negative," Palia scolded.

  "Look at the man!" Marvin exclaimed, barely glancing at Caren before shaking his head. I found it odd—Marvin, of all people, was clearly affected, even though he and Caren hadn’t been friends for a long time. Maybe they still met in private? Not that I ever cared enough to check.

  He muttered, "Poor bastard looks like Sonza now."

  "Don’t you fucking dare talk about my brother like that!" came the sharp retort.

  Before they could tear each other apart, I interjected, "Can we please focus?"

  "Okay, okay…" Marvin grumbled. "What’s their weight? I don’t want to go back inside for the scale."

  "...Okay then."

  "Two seventy-eight and ninety pounds," I answered.

  Palia nudged me. "Damn, you have a better memory than me."

  I chuckled.

  Her smile softened into something more serious. "Don’t worry, Nash. Marvin’s gonna fix them up. Somehow." She nodded, as if trying to convince herself, "Yeah… I’m sure."

  I smiled. "Certainty."

  "You're stronger than me. If it were my son in that state, I'd be on the ground crying." She glanced at Marvin. "Him, though? I'd be laughing my ass off."

  Marvin grumbled again and began mashing herbs in the bowl. "We'll have to put them to sleep before I can do anything."