She’d broken into a sweat, her breath leaving her in shallow pants. Throw up, then feel better. Throw up, then feel better. That’s what she kept telling herself. This was just like all the times she’d gotten sick as a child. She’d even thrown up earlier in the morning, it made sense that her body would still be adjusting to the trauma. Except, Phoebe realized, this sensation was markedly different than any nausea she had felt before.
Then, a monstrous hand burst forth from her torso.
Phoebe crawled backwards, desperate to get to her feet, trying to run from the thing prying its way out of her. She wasn’t able to go far before collapsing on the ground again. Her arms and legs no longer moved her, and her sense of balance was ruined by a quickly-shifting center of gravity.
A stabbing pain overtook any mislabeled discomfort as the wound running down her midsection widened. Familiar white-stained-red fur filled her vision, and with both massive paws already free the rest slipped out with ease. Undoubtedly, this was the monster that had attacked her last night. The one smuggled on board by the witch who had performed a Consumption ritual on her- the Consumption that was supposed to have killed both of them.
Haha, uh oh!