The plan is simple. Kierra wants to sleep with a troll. Her mother wants her to kill them. I am a shapeshifter who can take the form of whatever I eat. I kill the trolls, eat their bodies, give the heads to Kierra to present to her mother, and when nobody’s looking, I can fulfill those weird tastes she has behind the security of a locked door.

It’s so obvious. Exactly the same as the wolf thing at the beginning of my training. I am not stupid and am fully capable of learning from my failures.

Why didn’t I tell this to Kierra before leaving? Simple. I am still a little angry with her. Just a little. I told her to trust me so she knows I’m not abandoning her but let her fret over it. She likes power games so this is good practice.

Secondly, I didn’t need her demanding to tag along. She’s very protective. If she knew I planned to face all five of the trolls, she would follow. Then there would be a repeat of before. I may be okay with the troll fetish but I’m not about to watch her get boned by one. Nuh-uh.

I mean, not when she wants them more than me.

More importantly, her presence would disrupt the plan. Because I don’t plan to kill them immediately. I want to study them. Since Kierra doesn’t know exactly what she wants, I need to emulate them as closely as possible. I don’t want to be a cheap knock off. If she wants a troll, I’m going to give her a troll.

I head back to where we found the troll before. Wah. These things are the exact opposite of stealthy. It is no trouble at all to find its footprints. I begin tracking it.

Instead of continuing north to the very edge of the barrier, it turns east. The trees show obvious signs of the trolls’ habitation. Shrubs have been trampled and the trees are covered with gouges where the beasts sharpen their claws.

The trail leads to a hole in the ground that slopes downward. Several tracks surround the hole along with evidence of their activities. Animal scraps are scattered about haphazardly, their frames twisted grotesquely. Green wolves hang around the edges of the area, occasionally darting forward to grab a snack before darting away.

And the smell. That aroma my elf is so infatuated with hangs in the air so thickly, I think I can see it. Even my stunted human nose is clogged by it and I immediately switch to an elemental to avoid it.

While I intend to watch them, I have no intention of wandering into their dark den amongst all five of them, nope. I find a tree that gives me a good view of the entrance to the den and curl up at its base, settling down for a nap.

-

As I hoped, the trolls wake me. Coming back to awareness, I see the trolls are emerging from their den. It is not a slow, lazy affair that would be appropriate for the morning. They are loud and brash with one another, jostling whoever is climbing ahead of them and kicking whoever is behind. It morphs from small blows to an all-out brawl. Their bellowing and roaring as they slam into one another scare away the scavengers.

I watch with rapt fascination. They aren’t holding back. The biggest one, a troll with wine-red skin and a dark red mane going all the way down to his tail bone, throws a punch that cracks the top off one of the troll’s tusks, sending his opponent sprawling to the ground. If that blow that been aimed a little to the right, that might have killed him.

Another grabs one by the tusks and headbutts him. His victim hits the ground and doesn’t get back up. Ah. That’s what the thick bone fragment on their forehead is for. Good to know.

When everything is said and done, the red troll is the last one standing. The others climb to their feet shakily but seem to shake their injuries off after a few moments. They jostle each other in what I think is good spirits before setting off into the trees, the red troll in the lead.

The pecking order established, it’s off to secure food, eh?

I move between trees, keeping track of them. Each time they come upon a trail of some creature, a troll splits away from the group. The five eventually go their separate ways. I stay after the red troll. After all, if I’m going to become a troll, I want to be the best one.

-

Trolls are very simple creatures.

They only seem capable of three things; eating, sleeping, and fighting. No, make that four things. I forgot rutting, but there are no stranded elves around for me to get a demonstration of that. Still, I get a pretty good idea. Apparently, violence and sex are pretty closely linked in their minds. When they get angry, the blood rushes to other places besides their heads. I’ve gotten a good look at that part of their anatomy.

Kierra is amazing.

Their lives are very routine. Late in the morning, they all emerge from the den, pushing at each other, and commence the brawl for dominance. The winner, always the red troll, takes the lead for the day. They separate and return to their dens whenever they’ve caught prey. The leader takes the best meat from what they’ve gathered and the others fight over what remains. Then as night begins to fall, they retreat into their den to sleep.

They are savage animals with more strength than sense. As ridiculous as it seems, it has to be that savagery that attracts Kierra to them so much. So, a savage I must become.

I have a good understanding of them now. It’s time to get some experience.

When the trolls separate, I follow the red one. He is on the trail of a deer, completely focused on the ground, and has no reason to look up.

In elemental form, I leap off a branch, spreading myself wide. Coming down, I wrap myself around the troll’s head tightly, cutting off its air.

It bellows but the sound is muffled against my body. Clawed hands try to grab me but my surface is completely smooth and my victim is unable to grab ahold of me.

He rampages, throwing himself about and ramming his head into a tree. The impact sends shocks through my body, making me dizzy, but does nothing to break my grip. My body is too sturdy and I am very determined. If I get shaken off here, there is no guarantee I’ll get another chance like this.

You’re not escaping.

The lack of air takes its toll. His hits become weaker, his movements sluggish. I tighten my hold. The loud bellowing becomes weak whimpers, the clawing a soft petting. His shaky legs give out and he falls to his knees. Still, I don’t let up.

The troll pitches over to the side and loses consciousness. I still keep hold of him. Pressed against him, my sensitive surface can pick up all manner of things. The heat of his skin. The twigs and particles stuck in its mane. And the steady pounding of his heart.

That’s what I pay attention to. I keep hold of him until the heavy pounding in his neck becomes a whisper and finally quiets. Only then do I release.

Now the grisly part. Kierra told me she needs heads. That means no eating him outright. I have to do a little…dressing of the meat.

I turn my hand into a curved blade and bring it down with all my strength on the troll’s neck. It barely pierces the skin. A heavy sigh makes my undefined body ripple. This is going to take a while.