Chris stumbled into the Tortuga. It hadn’t been a long walk, but he was just so exhausted. He rubbed the gauze Martin taped over the small bite wound on his neck; whatever had bit him barley broke his skin, but it itched like crazy. He gave a halfhearted explanation to Aviva and shuffled off to the bedroom he shared with Martin.
Despite his exhaustion, he was restless. Tossing and turning, dodging nightmares and a sudden, inexplicable fever. Somewhere around 3am, he leapt from his hammock and ran to the bathroom. Martin, whom Chris had accidentally kicked on his way out, was barley awake but cognitive enough to realize something was very amiss, followed his brother.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Chris had a hand clamped over his mouth; he couldn’t speak. His entire body burned. His teeth felt like they were being ripped from his skull. Blood dribbled out of his mouth. “Chris?” The younger Kratt spat into the sink, two small cainines glistening among the blood.
“What the fuck?” Chris breathed, finally finding his voice. The expletive was echoed by Martin. Chris raised his head to look in the mirror. He still had teeth, sort of. His cainines were replaced with… Fangs? Two razor sharp fangs glistened in the dim bathroom light.
“Martin, what the hell bit me out there?”
(Gonna start using the tag #green writes for my writing stuff)