I just started this today so it's still kind of rough but it's basically a story about a shape shifter in a world where they are hunted.
Cool coastal air surrounded me, whipping my hair around. I could smell the sea on the breeze, making me home sick; I wished I could go back, back to my mother and father, my friends and family. I missed my home, my room, my bed. Back to the warmth and safety of locked doors and welcoming walls.
But I could never go back. Not now, not ever. To much lay on my head for me to return. Ever since I had been discovered as a figura amoveo, or, loosely translated, a shape shifter, I had been on the run. We all are.
The others don't understand. We are still human, just a little different....