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other circumstances, she
might have taken him for
some kind of servant. “It’s
getting dark.” Before Anni
knew what was happening,
he was right in front of her;
she could make out the tiny
droplets of water hanging
in his gray-brown beard.
He said, “May I ask you
something?” then slapped
himself on the forehead
with the palm of his hand,
smiling. “Did it again!” A
comely laugh.
Then he reached out to
touch a lock of her hair. “You
smell lovely.” All of a sudden
his voice was huskier and
his nostrils flared and the
muscles of his chest stood
out. He had transformed
himself into Markus.
Anni flinched back, sucking
in the damp air of the forest,
her back colliding with a tree
trunk. “What do you want?”
No answer. There was a
new, more acrid smell in
her nostrils now. The shape-
shifter blinked at her, his
mouth opened and shut,
opened and shut. Like a
stupid puppet’s. In her head
there were so many words,
and now all of them rushed
out at once. Anni clawed
with her hands into the tree
bark, and it hurt her, that
was a good feeling, she
drove her fingers deeper and
deeper into the wood, then
a scream leapt out—and all
of the words followed. The
forest’s echoes could barely
keep up, the words leapt
out from every direction
and whirred through the
air, one devouring the next
devouring the next, and the
night was as dark as it was
crammed with Anni’s words.