Fear.
Fear, a potent emotion, struck Aubrey's heart fervently. Without any mercy, the roots of fear crawled inside his heart, seeing the very clear nonhuman before him.
Though it took the form of a bear, what he'd seen prior lended itself to the idea of being something that was not a known animal nor a human.
—Something that existed entirely beyond those two states.
Though it sounds a bit pushy, the emphasis couldn't be stated enough. It was, fundamentally, not human nor any animal that Aubrey knew of. To change forms between animals and a vaguely humanoid existence on a dime, it was absurdly odd. No, even just "absurd" would suffice.
It was something which shouldn't be.
Aubrey struggled to get to his feet as the bear bit into his arm and shook him around with its jaw, flinging his light body around. He was brought to his knees, then to his rear on the floor, unable to fully move around; grappled.
"A-auhh—"
The sudden jolting of the bear's neck caused there to be a loss. Aubrey finally regained a semblance of movement, as his chest fell to the ground.
"Hk, ggh, what's—"
Happening?
His brain racked by confusion at the sheer absurdity of his situation, entwined with the desperate exhale and gasp from his body, he could not finish his sentence aloud, his brain picking it up.
He tried to push himself up off the ground. But he could not, as his left arm was the only one doing the work. He laid on his side, looking at his right arm.
"..."
He couldn't say a single word, not even an "eep" or "woah" from his mouth. The sight of his missing arm, ripped and chewed at the forearm, simply would not allow exit of audio from that throat of his.
His stomach hurt, and the smell and sight of his own mutilation caused vomit to expel from his throat. It hit the wooden floor, as he helplessly pushed it out with no other choice.
It was the simple fact that human beings did not like seeing their own bodies mutilated.
Perhaps a certain type of edgy teenager would say they'd love to see their own gore, as they'd watched hundreds of videos of the gore of other people. But still, as a general rule of thumb, people didn't like to be torn apart, much less see their own blood gushing from such a wound.
The pain accompanied the morbid sight, and both factors caused him to vomit. Fear running through his entire body, Aubrey's instincts finally kicked in, as he got to his feet as best he could and sprinted through the house, getting to his room and slamming the door behind him.
"Aubrey! What're you doing!? C'mon man, open the door! It's not funny!"
Davis, Davis, Davis, Davis—
That voice, belonging to one of his dearest friends, shouted for him to open as the entity banged on the door repeatedly and loudly.
Aubrey helplessly pressed against the door, doing anything to try and keep the entity out. His bleeding arm spread its messy to the white door, leaving misty patches of blood imprinted.
The wooden door was eventually broken through by the entity's hand, slashing Aubrey's face wide open with its claws. The wound was not so deep as to break bone, but his face was split open.
He let out a scream, as he fell back to the ground and covered his face with his left hand, rolling around.
"Gh, AGHA! I'LL, YOU…!"
Fear and Wrath are close acquaintances.
Where one is, at least in some manner, one is likely to find the other.
In his brutalized state, his nearly killed state, the state of his body overwhelmed, he felt fear. With fear as the root, wrath manifested.
With his mind drawn to killing, Aubrey got to his feet, unable to see from his missing left eye, as he leaned against a wall for support. The door was broken down, the visage of a bear made apparent before him.
Aubrey snarled like an animal, losing himself to his desperation. The bear rushed forward, and opened its jaw, to which Aubrey punched it with his left hand, delivering a right hook which was imbued with such force that it made even the entity jostle from the blow.
The reason was not found in his own strength, as a human. However, what had occurred was simply because he was no longer one.
The entity quickly recovered, opening its jaw and lunging at him. Aubrey shoulder-checked it, wedging his shoulder in between the bear's jaw whilst it was extended. And, since the upper jaw doesn't actually do any of the work, he put all of his effort using his arm and hand, pressing down.
Slowly, the jaw extended, struggling to close. But even still, Aubrey, driven by hate and consumed by fear, pushed down. His back was driven into by the teeth of the bear's top palate, yet Aubrey continued, exerting all his force on the bear's weaker end of the jaw, less close to the muscles in the mouth.
Even his bloody, weak arm was used, going down the bear's gullet to weaken it with a gag reflex, making it hard to breathe and focus on closing the jaw.
With his newfound, inhuman strength—
Snap.
The jaw, forcibly kept open, extended and extended until, finally, it broke. The bear roared, changing forms quickly into a wolf, leaving Aubrey on the floor. The wolf, too, had its jaw broken, and so it transformed into a pale gray old-man "thing," the jaw swinging around flaccid.
—Once more, Aubrey's appetite grew. No longer nagging, it exerted itself upon him overwhelmingly.
His mouth salivating, Aubrey pounced on the entity, mounting it and sinking his teeth into its throat.
No matter what, I'm not letting go until my teeth touch.
Taking a chomp from the neck, Aubrey ripped off the flesh and chewed it. The flavor was that of a cold, leftover steak, with a much soggier texture due to the decayed skin flaps.
He devoured, chewing, chewing, chewing, until finally,
"Ah…"
Swallowing the flesh, it was the most satiating meal he'd had in days.
…
Sitting on the ground of his bedroom, Aubrey liked his lips. He held his right hand into the air, with his forearm still covered in blood, as a small laughter escaped his lips.
The corpse of the monster had vanished, leaving not even blood behind. Even still, before it had disappeared, he had consumed so much of it that he was finally full. He slowly got up, walking to the bathroom where he washed his hands and the forearm of its dried up blood, his eyes making their way to his reflection.
What's happening to me? No. It can't be what's "happening." Rather… What "happened" to me?
He thought for a moment, as he tried to put the pieces together.
He showed extreme regenerative abilities from the consumption of flesh, even if it took a minute or so. He had grown pale and continuously hungry, only satiated by the flesh of the monster—
—What exactly is that thing?
Like any teenager would, thinking so immediately got him on his phone. Online, he read various stories of many different monsters, and finally, came across an answer.
Or rather, two answers.
The wendigo… a malevolent, cannibalistic spirit. Skeletal, and continually hungry for human flesh. Typically born out of…
—The consumption of human flesh to survive winter.
His throat went dry, and he swallowed his saliva to hydrate it.
Realizing that, Aubrey sunk to the ground, hanging his head downwards as he dropped his phone to the carpet, clutching his hair and pulling on it slightly.
I… I'm a monster now. I've known it since the battle, but now I finally have an idea of what exactly I am. But even still, I haven't read of them being able to shapeshift. So… what accounts for that?
Finding the strength to stand, Aubrey picked up the phone and continued researching, finding the skinwalker.
Skinwalkers: malevolent spirits or witches, who shapeshift and even use mimicry to lure in their prey. If that's the case, then… No.
Raising his hand to the mirror, all it took was the will to transform. His arm, even in the reflection of the mirror, turned into the great arm of a bear, growing brown fur and claws.
I'm both, aren't I?
Somehow, someway, there had been a fusion of the skinwalker and the wendigo. That fusion passed down until, finally, it made its way to him.
—With the hunger and gluttony of the wendigo, alongside the shapeshifting abilities of the skinwalker, Aubrey Palmer was, without question, no longer human.