In the Dark and the Wet

At first, Ida thought the child was crying, slouched on her knees in the road, covered by an oversized raincoat.  He could see her shoulders shuddering, gleaming wet in the streetlamp's glow.  There was a dark lump on the road before her, visible as a gap in the yellow lines.  Had someone run over her dog?

He slowed when he heard her chanting.

When he saw her hands rise to her mouth, he stopped.  With a grunt and a tearing sound, she began to chew.

By the time he realized it wasn't a raincoat at all, it was too late.

Needs

She breathed easier now it was over. The weight was already less; the plates and spikes and ridges withdrawing, retreating, melting like icebergs back inside of her.

She had survived. She knew she would. The fight, anyway. She'd Changed to survive. She just hadn't been sure she'd survive the Change.

Her opponent was in a furrow, buried under rubble. The ruins still smoked where he'd touched. Sirens sounded in the distance. She had to leave. Might not be bulletproof when they got here.

Something itched at her shoulder blades, among the ruins of her shirt. Something rustled. Something twitched.

Wings.

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