My stomach spasms. Saliva floods my mouth. I grab my head.
What is happening?
Eyes wide, I begin to crouch-walk away behind the boulders.
More hallucinations.
Varujan’s my friend, not a monster. My mind’s playing tricks. Right?
All of it?
The girl in the cell …
The rooks …
My hands quake. I have to be sure.
I creep back around the boulders.
Varujan fully emerges from the water, his figure pale but trim and toned. In a pivot, he bends and gathers his clothing from the shore, his back in full view.
Apprehension, stiff and blunt, stabs the nape of my neck like a blade. You will know it when you see.
His disfigurement is obvious now: a long, thin tail curls upward just above the crack of his bare ass. Its tip is tufted with black hair like a lion’s.
Sour bile coats my mouth. My temples throb.
I can’t think …
But my eyes are ultra-focused and alert, and I know it’s not an illusion. In a scramble, I turn and kick my feet up at the start of a sprint.