The Crown of Gilded Bones (Blood and..

along the length of his back bunched, and his arm tensed as
he tossed the shirt aside.
“That seems wasteful,” I muttered, watching the black
tunic float for a few moments before it slowly drifted to the
ground. His breeches joined it seconds later.
Naill sighed as he moved his horse forward. Shifting
sideways on the saddle, he stretched out an arm as he hung
low and swiped up the discarded clothing. “I should’ve just
left them there so you could return to the kingdom buck-ass
naked.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kieran raise an arm
and extend a middle finger. I told myself not to look but I
knew he was about to shift, and there was something utterly
fascinating about that. I couldn’t stop myself. I peeked,
keeping my gaze northwards.
Not like that did any good.
Kieran pitched forward, and for a moment, I saw way
more than I should have. Then he changed, his skin thinning
and darkening. Bones cracked and stretched, fusing back
together. Fawn-colored fur sprouted along his back, covering
the muscles as they thickened and grew. Claws slammed
into the ground, stirring up leaves and dirt. Seconds. It had
only taken seconds, and then Kieran prowled ahead of us in
his wolven form.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing that,” I
whispered.
“Which part?” Casteel asked. “The shifting, or Kieran
stripping?”
Naill snorted as he righted himself on the saddle,
shoving Kieran’s clothing into his bag.
“Neither,” I admitted, my gaze lifting to the trees as we
entered the woods. The tops were deformed, the limbs
twisted downward as if a great hand had landed over top of
them, attempting to push them into the ground. “Are the
trees like this always?”