The Cursed Night
"I'm cold, so I'm going to sleep warmly transformed into a cougar." You whisper, more to yourself than anything else. After all, Murray is inside your body.
Murray sarcastically replies: "You have adapted well to the transformation. Almost too well, most of the gods' avatars need much more time to adapt to the divine gift of being our liege in the mortal lands."
You scare a few flies, fluttering over the fur. You can't believe there are more avatars out there: "Are there people who voluntarily submit to this?"
Murray, it's inside of you but if it weren't for that little detail you would describe his emotions like he is gazing at you with a pure contempt; If hate were ammunition, he could open his own gun shop; Finally, he deigns to answer, with all his anger reflected on each word:
"White woman. Your race lives far from its gods. Your people annihilate all the land you touch as if you were an epidemic of pestilence, being the avatar of the tribe god was the greatest honour, back in the glory days of the tribes; people were preparing since childhood to fight for that honour. No one ever considered it a curse until the arrival of the white man. "
You are tired of his whiny attitude. So you tell him:
"Yes well, I'm tired of your defeatism, you have survived. Stop crying and do whatever it takes to get your way. Crying is not going to help you. "
Murray full of rage says nothing but sends you a wave of pain, almost like a child in the middle of a tantrum.
You just let it run, transforming into a feline again, feeling everything around you in a much sharper way. Almost as, if nature were a dancing buffet for your sharpened senses.
You clearly can sniff a poisonous snake, in a corner of the cave. You think it's a rattlesnake; it is laying down, waiting to bite you the moment you sleep.
Fury takes control of your body. You will not let a vermin attack you in your cave.
Murray sarcastically replies: "You have adapted well to the transformation. Almost too well, most of the gods' avatars need much more time to adapt to the divine gift of being our liege in the mortal lands."
You scare a few flies, fluttering over the fur. You can't believe there are more avatars out there: "Are there people who voluntarily submit to this?"
Murray, it's inside of you but if it weren't for that little detail you would describe his emotions like he is gazing at you with a pure contempt; If hate were ammunition, he could open his own gun shop; Finally, he deigns to answer, with all his anger reflected on each word:
"White woman. Your race lives far from its gods. Your people annihilate all the land you touch as if you were an epidemic of pestilence, being the avatar of the tribe god was the greatest honour, back in the glory days of the tribes; people were preparing since childhood to fight for that honour. No one ever considered it a curse until the arrival of the white man. "
You are tired of his whiny attitude. So you tell him:
"Yes well, I'm tired of your defeatism, you have survived. Stop crying and do whatever it takes to get your way. Crying is not going to help you. "
Murray full of rage says nothing but sends you a wave of pain, almost like a child in the middle of a tantrum.
You just let it run, transforming into a feline again, feeling everything around you in a much sharper way. Almost as, if nature were a dancing buffet for your sharpened senses.
You clearly can sniff a poisonous snake, in a corner of the cave. You think it's a rattlesnake; it is laying down, waiting to bite you the moment you sleep.
Fury takes control of your body. You will not let a vermin attack you in your cave.