The Vixen

The Storm

The sleet was replaced by snow. At first it was light and fluffy, falling. As the evening wore on, however, the snow started falling more thickly and the wind was tossing the branches of trees outside. Jasmine felt asleep with the muffled sound of whistling wind and sharp snow buzzing in her ears.
    When she woke up, she was sick. Even weirder, she was an Arctic fox. Although she knew she was a werefox, The was the first time she had seen herself as one. Her head was pounding and her white fur felt stifling hot. She sneezed.
Fiona woke up to her roommate's sneezing. "You're ill!" she exclaimed.
Jasmine's thrust felt sore. "I don't feel the best," she croaked.
"No wonder," Fiona said. "You're in your fox form. You're too weak to change back."
"Do I really turn into a fox every time I sleep?" she managed to ask.
Fiona nodded. "But you'll learn how to control it with time," she promised. "You'll need to if you decide to go back to the world of humans."
Jasmine sneezed again. All of her muscles were sore and she was panting. Her fur coat was luxuriously soft, but it left her feeling prickly hot-or perhaps she had a fever. She felt too tired to do much more than lay her head on her paws and curl up, hoping to drift back to sleep. Luckily, it was a Sunday morning.
     She fell asleep, but it was a chaotic sleep full of being doused awake before fitfully drifting asleep once again. Her very bones aches and her breathe rattled. She had started coughing too.
    Jasmine lost track of time, but she was aware of growing weaker. When she finally started coughing up blood, Fiona grew worried. "I'll get the nurse," she promised.
     Jasmine tried to reply, but promptly fell into a coughing fit. She had never been so ill in her life. In her delirium, she saw the nurse as her mother. "Mom?" she said weakly.
    The nurse's face was pinched with worry. Jasmine couldn't keep her eyes open, though, as the nurse prodded and poked her limp body. She drifted back into an uneasy slumber.
    She awoke again and felt a cool washcloth on her forehead. She looked at herself. She had hands again! She still felt ill, but not as much as before. She looked around and saw a nurse offering her a cup of steaming tea.
    Jasmine struggled to sit up and then slowly drank the tea. It had a bitter, metallic edge to it. She wanted to spit it out, but nurse said, "the tea will help you get stronger."
    Jasmine followed the bitter tea. She slowly drained the cup. Her stomach rumbles. For the first time in ages, she was hungry. The nurse offered her a bowl of soup-which was mostly broth. She spooned some into her mouth. Her stomachs felt queasy, but it held. She slowly finished the rest. "Thanks," she managed to say before coughing again.
    "Rest up dear," the nurse said. "You'll he better in no time."