It was also a type of were that Natasha had never seen before. The features were clearly canine in origin, but just as clearly not a werewolf. Werewolves were massive, their hybrid forms towering eight to nine feet into the air, enormous like the grizzly wolves Iceron had used to create them from. The girl's new hybrid form stood perhaps six-and-a-half feet tall, tops, and had nowhere near a werewolf's bulk; her build would be considered slim, svelte, lithe, giving the impression of being made for agility and maneuverability, rather than strength.
The fur, too, was an interesting sight on the new were. Like a number of other werecreatures -- werecheetahs and wererats, for example -- the color of the individual's hair determined the color of their fur, or vise versa. Bright golden yellow fur adorned Gina's frame, darkening over her hands and feet to become an almost golden brown, with white "belly fur" that extended upward to also cover the lower half of her face.
Natasha especially took notice of Diggers' newly-reshaped head -- the ears had raised upward on Gina's head, triangular points now sticking straight up through her blonde hair on top of her skull, her lower white-furred face elongated into a short, pointed muzzle -- and the long bushy tail that now jutted from her backside.
...
...Make that tails. As in plural, three of them. The new limbs uncoiled from one another, having blended so well into each other that it looked as though a single tail was splitting apart and simultaneously growing into three separate appendages.
"A werefox...?"
Just to start with, there were the senses. Gina had known for a long time that Brittany in both her hybrid and animal forms had much sharper senses than her own dull, human ones. But until now, she had never truly known or appreciated just how much sharper they really were! Every smell around her was magnified to an unheard-of degree: the tang of metallic alloys, the sharp zip of electrical ozone, the smell of her own sweat as she had toiled on her various creations, the bitter-sweet stench of decaying flesh. She could hear the steady thrum of energy, the creaking of skeletal joints, the slow churning of digesting blood in Natasha's stomach (and consequently, had to keep from emptying her own stomach's contents at that mental image.)
And then there was the knowledge. Iceron had done his job well. Even as Gina staggered to remain upright, new knowledge, new instincts, of herself, of her new race and what she could do, were ingratiating themselves into her subconscious. When it finished, it would be as though Gina had always been a werevixen; she would as comfortable in her two new forms as in her human one. Iceron, after all, had been trying to quickly create warriors to fight the vampire menace. Having to spend time training them up to where they could successfully fight off the undead would have been counter-productive.
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(Posted Thu, 09 Nov 2006 16:53)
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らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
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