A Revised edit from Nwa Pante Rising…

Turi rose to his full height partially shifting into a furred human with claws and teeth; he was neither human nor animal and yet was both at the same time. To achieve the form was a feat in itself, one only a few had mastered, but to hold it in such a delicate balance for any real length of time, took a great deal of skill and even more control. Turi growled, low and menacingly.

The wide-eyed man pushed Shiloh toward him and Turi was reaching for her when the sound of a cocking shotgun echoed in hallway just below them. He’d assumed everyone was upstairs handling them and had been too focused on getting Shiloh back that he hadn’t heard the man coming up behind him. His feelings for Shiloh had led him to make too many mistakes. Turi weighed his options, Shiloh was only inches away from his grasp, all he had to do was touch her and he could teleport them to safety. As if reading his thoughts, the man with the shotgun issued a warning.

“Lookit here, catman.” A southern voice came from the staircase now. “If you so much as flinch, I’ll paint the walls with your brains.”

“Ta,” Turi cursed when the cold barrel pressed against the side of his head. No matter who or what you were, a shotgun blast at that range would make a mess that there was no coming back from and he couldn’t teleport quick enough to avoid getting hit. Turi went very still. He could track Shiloh if he needed to, but if he got himself killed, there’d be no one to save her.

“Ta’s right.” The voice agreed, not understanding the word itself but fully grasping the sentiment behind it. Using the barrel of the gun, the man directed Turi out from in front of the steps and away from Shiloh. “Take it easy or there’s gonna be Ta all over the place in a skinny minit.”


Published by: Kawanee Hamilton

Kawanee was born in Alexandria Louisiana but her first real memories are of Russellville Arkansas. She's always loved to read, and has always had an vivid imagination. She grew up in a house where almost everyone read, they didn't need a TV although she could still be found planted on her butt in front of her grandma's TV watching cartoons on Saturday mornings. She made up her first story with her mother when her cat died; it was about where pets go when they die. She continued to create stories from bad dreams she had and her dad would help her change nightmares to stories. They would sit up in a chair until the scary went away. He told her that: "Dreams, good or bad, are just stories your mind makes up. You are the author of your dreams; if you don't like them rewrite them. " She was hooked and has continued to read and write stories drawing from dreams, sights and just pure imagination. She just recently decided she'd like to try and get published and fail than wonder what if. Her story continues but where it goes from here is up to you, the Reader... She hopes you'll join her in finding out where her journey goes from here!

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