The Lonely Shapeshifter

 

It was lonely being a shapeshifter. I hung out with the humans, but I couldn’t be intimate with them. Of course, there could be other shapeshifters around, but how could we find each other? If there were any others, they would be trying to blend in just like me. Who knew what would happen if someone found out? It was only a few years ago that they burned witches. Would they do the same to me?

Otherwise, it wasn’t a bad life. Cutting down wheat during the day. Having a beer with the other guys before literally hitting the hay. They called me witty and intelligent. That meant nothing to me. After all, I was a professor of philosophy on my home world. Or, I had been. Before the revolution.

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