Scarred Man by Bevan McGuiness

would work, Wielder,’ he replied.
    â€˜So you did, Ilmari, so you did.’ The Wielder of the Key lowered himself slowly and with great difficulty until he was seated cross-legged on theground in front of Tatya. He stared intently into the shapeshifter’s red eyes. ‘Now,’ he mused, ‘what are we going to do with you?’ His long, spindly fingers moved erratically across his knees as he sat. Tatya shifted her gaze down to watch them as they danced and skittered like unsteady insects. ‘I think I know just the thing for something like you, shapeshifter.’
    The fingers stopped their distracting motion as the Key Wielder raised his hands. The man called Ilmari stepped forward and, gripping the old man’s hands, helped him to his feet.
    â€˜Keep watch on her,’ the Wielder told Ilmari. ‘I will return soon.’
    Despite the cold, Tatya decided that once the old man had left, it might be time to try her other form. She shifted into her human shape. With her teeth bared in the confusing human custom, she gave Ilmari her best sultry stare.
    â€˜You are not human, shapeshifter,’ Ilmari said stiffly. ‘No matter what you look like, you are still a beast, an animal. Your inhuman wiles are not effective.’
    â€˜Your words lie, human,’ Tatya said. The human’s scent was rich, redolent with fear and growing desire. ‘Surely we can play, just a little.’ She looked down at where her skin was responding to the cold. The human’s eyes followed her gaze down, resting predictably on her breasts. ‘It is getting cold,’ Tatya went on. ‘I need to warm up. Could you help me?’
    The human’s scent shifted further into desire, rapidly overcoming fear. Not long now.
    Ilmari stepped back abruptly. ‘You are not human,’ he repeated.
    â€˜Really?’ Tatya said. She writhed sinuously, offering the human a fuller view of her body. The cold was beginning to bite. Unless she was successful soon, she would have to shift back to the warmer form. Snow drifted in through a gap in the roof, bringing with it the promise of painful cold. Tatya hooded her eyes and curled her body. Ilmari took half a step forward.
    Very close.
    Cold.
    Biting cold seeping into an unprotected body.
    Deep, aching shivers starting, moving up through legs.
    More snow drifted down onto uncovered skin.
    Curse this naked form!
    A growl escaped her lips as her control over her form failed completely in the face of the brutal cold. She shifted into her primary form, the large black feline with yellow mane and ridge running the length of her spine.
    Ilmari sprang back. ‘Ice and wind!’ he gasped.
    Tatya snarled, her anger at her own weakness battling with her anger at her failure. Her claws slid out, unsheathing like curved daggers, seeking out the restraints. Even so soon after shifting, her instincts to struggle, to rend, to escape, to draw blood were strong.
    So different from the instincts of her secondary form.
    To hide, not fight.
    To gnaw, not tear.
    To flee, not devour.
    The restraining bonds tightened, seeming to slide away from her seeking claws. Ilmari stepped closer and swung a powerful kick at her head. His boot landed hard, sending a burst of agony screaming through her. Her snarl shifted up to a yowl of fury. She slashed at his foot, but the bonds stayed strong, reducing her attack to a humiliating thrashing about.
    â€˜Ilmari!’ The old one had returned. He stood in the ruined doorway and glared at Ilmari. ‘Do not hurt her. She is precious, and so very rare.’
    Ilmari bowed and stepped away from Tatya as the other human shuffled in.
    â€˜Now, shapeshifter,’ the Wielder said. ‘My name is Joukahainen and I think we can be of great service to each other.’ Stiffly, with Ilmari’s steadying hand, the old human lowered himself to the ground to sit beside her.
    Tatya stopped moving and snarled at him, showing her