Drake changesMature

Knight returned at the tail end of a conversation.  Drake was going on about his change, and Knight was about ready to shut him up.  But he was a guest here, and he assumed that Drake, because of his familiarity with the tiger king, was a few rungs up on the social ladder here.  Knight wanted to remain.

He had ridden for far too long to lose access to a place like this.  Especially when it was full of handsome men like Malcolm.  He looked at him appreciatively, and made sure to look beyond him if Malcolm turned to face him.

"My head hurts right now alot," Drake was saying, "Is that normal?"

Knight shrugged.  "Dunno, kid.  It din't hurt that much f'r me.  Though I was jus' confused at first, my mama 'splained it all to me."

"Your momma?"  Drake felt at his own neck line, fingers touching a bite mark.

"Yah, she was a were..."  He let it hang at that, not wanting to go into the years when it was just him and his mother.  

 "I got a bite," Drake said.

Good for you, Knight wanted to say, with an added punch to the face to shut him up. Instead he turned to Mal, "That's bad, eh?  Rogue tigers runnin' loose."

Drake went on,  "It made me a weretiger...Oh, I feel it again."

Mal seemed deep in his own thoughts.  Knight pulled out a coin and flicked it at Mal, who caught it without really moving and looked questioningly at Knight.  "Penny f'r your thoughts?  An' gimme back my nickle."

Malcolm tossed the coin back with a smile.  "Good, because it's nunya."

"Fair 'nuff," Knight said, though he was curious at what could be bothering him.  None of your business, don't care.  But he did.

Meanwhile, Drake started to shift and change, saying, "Rak, make it quit!"  He sprouted white hair, long thick fangs, and fell to his hands and knees.

Knight had never seen another shifter change before, other than his mother, so to watch this young man change before him was a surprise in itself.  He watched intently as the young man, just a head under his height and half his size, grow to about his own bulk, if not a bit more, with long fanged incisors.  White tiger stripes covered him, his clothes torn to shreds on the floor.

Knight's primal instinct was to run.  He stood his ground, even when the tiger growled and huffed and sniffed in his direction.  A chair was between them.

"Tha's a good boy; you stay righ' over on that side there."

However, Drake the tiger did no such thing, and jumped over the chair, tackling Knight.  Knight almost panicked, shifting right then and there to give that damn tiger a what-for--but the tiger nipped at Knight's neck and licked it with its rough tongue.

Then Knight felt the tiger get pulled off of him, and he could breathe again.

The End

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