Chapter 7
As Zyl threw aside Carl’s shirt to shift, he watched the lion lunge at the leading protestor. The man cracked the pole of his sign across a leonine nose. It had no more effect than if he had used a fly swatter. In less than a blink, the man was flat on his back, a plate-sized paw bearing down on his chest, while hot feline breath stirred the shaggy strands of his beard.
When the lion spoke regular human words of warning and disdain in a deep and rumbling voice, the man’s eyes rolled back and his body went limp. Emerging from his shift, Zyl smelled the sharp stench of urine and realized the man had pissed himself as he passed out. Witnessing the fall of their supposedly fearless leader, more of the protestors fled the scene.
At Zyl’s side, Carl’s ocelot form appeared. Although
