Journal Entry 42

July 22nd,

I scarcely know where to begin.

I woke when the sun was still up and slipped out of the tent to inspect the stone ruins.  It all seemed rather mundane to me.  Really, I was more worried over the scorching heat above me than the bland rock under my hands.  However, I was determined to find some sort of indication into what we were dealing with.

Eventually, my hands wandered to the base and from there I felt a strange tingle in my fingertips.  There was still quite a bit buried and as I tried to dig further into the sand, something pricked my finger.  I jerked back, startled and wondering if I had disturbed a scorpion.  That would be all I needed right then, since Cyrus was still asleep and the sun was blazing overhead.  However, it was just a piece of bone stuck down into the sand.  I fished it out, finding it to be something like an old weathered canine jaw-bone.

I was worrying over some kind of infection when arms came around me.  My Cyrus had marched out of the tent in broad daylight!  I nearly shrieked as he began to drag me back into the safety of cover, mumbling sweet nothings in my ear.  I kicked and flailed, asking him what in the blazes he thought he was doing out in the daytime, but he would not answer me.  It was like he was on some sort of automatic pilot, ignoring the redness and blistering that the sun was doing to his flesh.

Just as we disappeared into the tent flap, I swore I saw up on a ridge above us, what appeared to be a shadowy figure.

Hands were all over me, and Cyrus would not be denied.  I felt his fangs sink into my neck and I swelled with delight.  I find it nearly impossible to deny his lusty desires when he bites me.  We had sex yet again, despite the panic and fear in my mind.  Something was wrong, something was very very wrong!

After it was over, I snagged up my crossbow and went back out onto the sands, wearing barely more than a robe about my nudity.  I scanned the area, staring at the dunes and all the wavering shapes for what seemed like an eternity.  Just when I thought I was going to give up, there was a flicker.  At first I thought it was a mirage, but sure enough, there was a man with the head of a dog.

I lifted my crossbow, about to let a bolt fly when Cyrus’ arms wrapped around me from behind again.  I managed to pull the trigger, but I was no longer aiming where I wished.  I heard a yelp, but couldn’t see where the creature had gone.

Cyrus got me halfway back into the tent, then stopped.  When I looked up into his face, he had drained of some of his beautiful chocolatey color and appeared like he might be ill.  He let go of me and darted back into the safety of darkness.  I stayed outside, glaring at the horizon before following after him.  I found him huddled in a corner, hugging his knees and rocking back and forth.  He was mumbling ‘I’m sorry’ over and over.

I put my crossbow down and put my arms around him.  I kissed his temple and said it was all right, I loved him and he hadn’t done anything wrong.  He threw himself into me, nearly knocking me into our bedrolls as his face pressed into my stomach.  He claimed a fog had settled over his mind, and he wasn’t himself.  He couldn’t explain it, but he was emotionally shaken to the core.

My Cyrus is strongest of mind, and so I proposed to him that it was not his mind the object was working on, but perhaps emotions, maybe even a pheromone?  He sniffled and nuzzled me, mumbling out a ‘maybe.’

We held one another and I pet his head.  We shall recover and then go after that thing that I wounded.  Cyrus intends to destroy that strange rock as well.  He’s not sure what it is, but he doesn’t believe it’s good.  We still don’t know what we’re dealing with, but taking over my Cyrus and turning him into some kind of raging sexual beast for a few days, while stimulating, does not amuse me.

Until later, Journal.

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