DiceGames: The Ratter

This is my first entry to Lady Antimony's DiceGames challenge; there will be one for every monday of September. You throw a dice and look up the corresponding prompt from Lady Antimony's list. The rules are here. For this week, I rolled number one: "You've woken up to discover you're a rat - what's happening?"

His little heart flung itself against his ribs like a bird in a cage. Smells and sounds befuddled his senses, everything was happening too fast. He had to change back, but found he couldn’t.

“Allera! Why are you doing this to me? Let me change back!” He squeaked upwards, hoping the sorceress would answer his plea, but she only laughed.

“This is your punishment, fool!” Her cold, green eyes stared down from high up. “I saw what you did.”

“But—”

“I will let you change back once you’ve found the hairpin I lost in the vegetable garden.” Her perfect lips formed a circle as she spoke, “Go.”

What good is being a shapeshifter when your magic can be blocked by a sorceress? He shook his pointy head. He should have left the first time this happened.

The shapeshifter in rat form scuttled under the backdoor. He stood for a moment, sniffing the air for cats or the neighbour’s ratter. Birds he couldn’t smell, he would just have to spot the shadow of the predator before the claws caught him.

Fighting down the urge to grab and eat the beetle that skittered past, he scurried to the far end of the vegetable garden. It wasn’t huge, but he would do better to be meticulous in his search. One row at a time he searched for the elusive hairpin.

Why does she even have one? Her silken brown hair didn’t need any adornments.

The hairpin wasn’t in the field of peas or in the row of beef tomatoes. Desperately he climbed onto a cabbage. His little claws sunk into the tender plant as he balanced on his hind legs.

Swaying back and forth atop the mound of green he failed to notice the shadow passing over him. A shrill cry alerted him; quickly he pulled his claws free and jumped to the ground.

Oh no, not a…

In a flurry of brown the little bird landed in front of him. Before he could run and hide, squeaky words burst from the grey beak: “She cast you out again! The Sorceress cast you out again!”

“Shut up, virra.” The stubby front legs were just long enough to cover his ears.

“I have a name, you know.” The bird mercifully fell silent for a moment.

“Shut up!” he shouted; the bird had opened its beak to speak again. The ball of feathers looked insulted.

“No, it’s Yeolde, and I have what you seek.” The bird held up a spindly grey leg, revealing a decorative hairpin. The thin claws holding the pin spread, but hairpin did not fall. “It’s stuck until you remove it, but you have to be severely annoyed.”

Rats did not communicate with facial expressions, but somehow he managed to convey the emotion to the virra.

“I see you are in the correct frame of mind. Take the thing; I need to earn my daily grain.”

He cringed at his pink foreleg; this wasn’t his true form. He had to change back soon, or the need to chew something, anything, would become overwhelming.

How other beings survived living in one shape was beyond his understanding. Likely ignorance kept them placate, stupidity in some cases. Allera the Sorceress was different; she was a powerful earth mage. She could encase herself in the life essence of an animal, thus becoming it. Although her magic was different from shapeshifter magic, the end result was much the same.

It had been her magic and the way she wielded it that had drawn him to her. He had been her apprentice for years, fetching herbs from deepest woods, taking care of the garden, keeping the house clean, all just to be close to her.

He squeezed himself under the door, the accursed pin held firm in his grasp. She waited for him, arms crossed across her chest.

“Go look for my ring,” she spoke without looking at him.

“Yes, exalted sorceress.” He sighed; she didn’t care to hear her real or her pet names when she was angry.

“Watch out for the cat.”

“Yes… Wait, the cat?” He froze, this was going too far.

“The neighbour’s cat has been skulking around. I’ll deal with the feline if he becomes too interested in you.” Stifled anger was clear in the tone of her voice.

“I am not going through this again.” Something in his voice moved her. Slowly she lowered her gaze, her arms falling down into her lap. “What exactly did I do wrong?”

“I saw how you looked at that bitch.” She looked away; he followed her gaze to the window. Outside a pitch-black rat-dog was busy digging.

“I may be able to take the form of a dog, but I am not interested in them!” He felt repulsed at the thought; him, a noble shapeshifter, able to take form of a wolf, looking lustily at a dog? Ugh. “Even if I were, I have you. You’re beautiful and talented in magic. I couldn’t believe my luck when you asked me ‘how do shapeshifters court?’”

He could feel the spell lifting from his shoulders. With joy he changed back into his true form, a human. He walked on two legs, he had hands again, and he could smile with his lips and kiss his lovely wife.

“You said the shapeshifters of the Southern Plains bring a piece of fresh meat to their loved one. But you didn’t live in the plains anymore.” She smiled, her eyes the colour of the forest lighting up. “Then you kissed me.”

Gently his arms slid around. Her cheek rested against his chest, so soft and warm. How she could have thought him stupid enough to look at another female, he could not understand.

“Don’t belittle yourself, dear wife,” he whispered into her ear. “The enchantment you cast has not faded.”