Another Skin Part Four

When Rupert awoke the ground beneath him felt different. The air felt different. He felt different. He stood on shaky legs, bringing himself up slowly as he tried to collect his thoughts. Immediately he knew something was wrong. What he had experienced had not been some surreal fantasy brought on by his stressful night of sleep, rather it had truly happened. The pelt had woven itself around his form, taken shape upon him, with him. Now still it remained, having consumed him.
 
His sight had changed, his vision was expanded and he could see beside himself. As he turned the woods around him formed more quickly than usual. He knew without looking down that he was walking with more limbs. Nothing about this was right or common. Rupert tried to rationalize what was happening but no words could vanquish the truth.

He glanced forward and a long silver snout greeted his vision. He stumbled back, looked down and knew. He was a horse. However, Rupert was not just any horse. He was a magnificent stallion with a silver gray spotted pelt that glittered in the afternoon sunlight. His long mane shook around his strong neck as he twisted his head and lunged back on his hinds in a panic. He tried to yell out but the thundering sound of a whinny escaped him instead.

The pond splashed water over the dirt as Rupert raced through it. He ran into the woods, deeper than he’d ever gone. His thoughts were a flurried mass of confusion and doubt. It was impossible. No man could merely reform into a horse. It was ludicrous, it was outrageous, and it had to be some sort of magic.

His legs moved naturally, one after the other and in sets as his speed increased. He didn’t know to where he was running, he simply wanted to escape the reality that was rapidly catching up to him. He had been enchanted by the hide. It had called to him. It had changed him.

His new body broke through the side of the forest and came to run over a pasture. Rupert continued to run, to gallop. In all of his fretting he hadn’t realized how intoxicating the feeling of his rushing limbs had become. He noticed now though as his other thoughts began to drift away with the realization that he was helplessly trapped in the pelt until whatever magic had taken hold released him. Now his mind surged over possibilities. This was magic, unholy perhaps but situational without a doubt. No amount of running would shake the fur loose.

He slowed in his panic and his step. He shuffled from hoof to hoof. He was a horse. A splendid one at that, his legs felt strong and he knew the pallet of his body was that of the silver pelt. He tossed his head as he tried to rationalize and consider his options, as he did so his mane fluttered around his tall ears. The hair tickled his neck and sent strange sparks of satisfaction down his elongated spine.

There was a benefit to this, he slowly realized. Elizabeth loved horses. This, perhaps, could do what no amount of money could. He could charm her. If he could change back, he could show her. It was a compelling notion.

He tried to remember where her farm was from where he stood but something interrupted his thoughts. A bright light filled his vision. He stumbled back, his new legs nearly tripping each other. When he opened his eyes, there was a girl there, short with light hair and large kind eyes.


Rupert whinnied in alarm and tried to back away but the girl moved closer and whispered, “Hush.”

With the word the thief-turned-horse felt his new body calm. Her voice was oddly soothing. She reached out a hand and caressed his snout, sending jolts of satisfaction through his form. He stepped cautiously closer.

She stroked his face as she spoke, “This is a gift. Those who use it well will be rewarded. Those who use it ill shall feel its wrath. You needn’t worry my stallion, all will become clear to you for I know you will use it well.”

Rupert tried to ask what had happened to him, why the pelt had chosen to morph to him, and though all that came out were whinnies, the girl seemed to understand.

“The pelt accepts those who view it as a great treasure. You chose it, as it chose you. Wear it as you like and feel yourself become one with it.”

Rupert didn’t how to respond. Everything was so strange, he wasn’t even sure he was about himself. It was only his physical sensations that kept him grounded, the strong pull of muscle as he shuffled from foot to foot, the dirt sinking beneath his hoofs. It took everything around him to convince him that what was happening was real.

“You will come to understand the use of this power. Now I must go, but before I do, I shall offer you a word of caution. The pelt can be worn at anytime you like, but it can only be removed beneath the moonlight. Do not be seen, those with darkness in their hearts can never learn the beauty of this magic, but they will seek it. Farewell.”

As quickly as she had appeared, she vanished and Rupert was left alone in his sea of confusion. Everything normal had come undone in the span of single afternoon. Perhaps it was his karmic punishment for taking the earnings of others. The possibility seemed painfully likely, although the girl spoke of removing the pelt. He wondered if she was a spirit, or faerie, or being unlike any in the stories that he knew. In any case if her words were honest the moonlight would bring his freedom. His dark eyes looked to the sky and saw that sun had barely began to dwindle.

He stumbled before catching himself on his hinds. It would give him time at least to adjust to the weight of his new form. He looked ahead then, saw the open pasture and the trees beyond that led into a wood less traveled. He wondered how deep the natural bounty spread into the world before he would find another town. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, felt his mane tussle again as his new lengths of hair flurried about his fine face. He moved forward this time with focus rather than dread, and he moved across the grass-laden field.

Even the wind felt different as it cascaded over his powerful shoulders. He ran again and he ran and ran until the sun began to drift below the horizon. By the night time night found the sky Rupert had mastered the sensation of moving. He had been given much time to muse as well and his thoughts had come to provide him with the notion that he was asleep. He had, perhaps, tripped upon the root of the mighty oak and fallen flat and vacant against the forest floor. There was no pelt, no magic, merely the wistful dreaming of a near-vagabond man. So he had enjoyed it, every moment of sweet freedom the pelt provided as he ran uncontained in the open space where no one would find him. When the darkness fell he knew his fantasy was ending. He trotted into the forest; mindful to watch for any dream diversions he might concoct, and found his way back to the tree.

It was then that he felt it; the disconnect as his skin began to sag and his chest split open, ripped as if pulled too tight even as the skin fell limply about his form. He tried to stay calm, tried to remind himself in was only the trick of his sleeping mind, but the sensations and the sights seemed real.

The hole in the chest parted and seemed to grow larger and larger until he was peaking through it. It was then that he realized he had grown small. He stepped through the hole, the portal, and found himself in the woods, beside the oak tree, with the pelt at his feet.

Rupert bent down and plucked the thing from the ground. Its soft furs shimmered in the moonlight and he felt himself heave.

He dropped the pelt and with his body trembling he tried to wretch the madness from his body. Yet, even when he pulled himself up, wiped the spittle from his lips, he found the sight hadn’t changed and the memories were strong and under no circumstances had the day been a dream.


Once he garnered the strength to collect himself he folded the pelt and tucked it beneath his arm. It had alarmed him, but it was magic. A gift, he’d been told. The girl had been right about the magic waning beneath the moon. He decided it could be of value.

He moved the rock aside and collected the satchel of cash. It was intact and full and he almost felt a greater elation that it hadn’t gone missing than at the fact he was grasping a magic fur.

He went to Clint’s as he’d been instructed and unsurprisingly found the man looking exhausted when at last he was greeted.

The older man’s eyebrows knitted-together, he huffed in frustration, then moved aside with a mumble of, “The food’s gone cold.”

Rupert came inside, thankful for the warmth in contrast to the chill outside, but still oddly consumed by the sensation of claustrophobia he so often felt indoors.
Clint ushered him about, made him take up a seat while the sooth-talker gathered his face and tidied the apartment. When he emerged next to Rupert’s sight, his hair was neat and slicked like always and his hands held a tray of food.

Rupert ate gratefully as Clint eyed him from the other chair. “What is that?” He asked at last, his gaze tracking over the silver square on Rupert’s lap.

“I found it in woods,” Rupert said around chunks of meat. He swallowed thickly and waved his hand. “It’s nothing to worry about. Here,” he hefted the bag from their deed onto the table between them and watched, unusually unaffected as a few dollars spilled forth into sight.

Clint leaned forward in his seat and ran his hands through the bills. “It all here?” He asked suspiciously.

“Unless the raccoons took a slice it should be the whole pie.”

The brunette’s face lit up and sat back, crossed his legs, and laughed. “Damn. Best haul I’ve ever seen. We should have been partners years ago! I’ll count it out and get you your cut tonight.”

Rupert smiled as he ate up the last of the food. “I can’t believe we really did it.”
Clint stood, placed a hand on the younger man’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Believe it boy. We pulled it off. We’ll be out of here in two weeks. Should give us enough time for the heat to die off.”

“Sounds great,” Rupert said contently. At last, he’d be able to buy his own food, enough to stock a house if he wanted.

“Then,” Clint said with a devilish glint in his eyes, “We’ll start planning for the next one.”

Rupert felt the food in his stomach harden like a stone sinking to the bottom of a river. “Next what?”

Clint’s smile didn’t falter. “The next heist, Rupe!”