07/09/2025 Snippet, BRAVING THE MALSTORM.

Serpent men!

…

“Good to know.” Zeke put his carpetbag on the top bunk. “The restaurant car’s closed, but I’m told there’s usually sandwiches for the overnight. You’ll need… about fifteen minutes, right?”

“That should do.” Zeke nodded, and left. I thought about stopping him long enough to ask for a sandwich of my very own, but I doubted they had any mice ones. It’s an acquired taste, and most people chose not to acquire it. I’d say ‘more for me,’ but that was the problem, wasn’t it? There were no mice sandwiches at all.

Right about then I decided I was dithering (skin-swapping isn’t painful, but it makes you feel itchy for a few days afterward). There was no point putting it off, so I unzipped the body bag to see what I was going to look like in a few minutes. I always found it interesting, seeing myself as others would see me. A mirror just isn’t the same.

The new skin wasn’t bad. Human, about five feet, ten inches. Middle-aged, but healthy about it. Small tattoos on palm and one shoulder. Black hair and beard, with a couple of grey tufts. Regular features, almost actor-quality handsome. Skin was surprisingly untanned and soft, which surprised me. Most of our replacement skins come from military organ donors, usually from Deseret itself. Desereters were an outdoorsy bunch. This was a little weird.