A disquieting unease had settled over the Paw Patroller pups. It started subtly, a change in Marshall's usual routine. He'd always been the first one up, eager for breakfast and a morning game of fetch. Now, he'd sleep in late, his once bright eyes heavy-lidded and shadowed. He'd pick at his kibble, his nose wrinkling at the familiar scent.
Another unsettling detail was his new craving. It started innocently enough – a stolen bite of Ryder's barbeque chicken. But the craving intensified, morphing into a singular desire for… steak. Raw steak. The sight of it sent Marshall into a near frenzy, his whimpers morphing into a guttural growl that sent shivers down the pups' spines.
The final straw, however, was Marshall's nocturnal habits. Gone were the days of him cuddling with Everest or snoring softly in his pup-house. Now, under the cloak of night, he'd disappear into the woods behind the Lookout. The pups, curiosity laced with fear, would sometimes follow, only to find Marshall perched on a rock, bathed in moonlight, his dark silver scales shimmering eerily as he devoured a raw steak he'd procured from who-knows-where.
One particularly tense evening, as the pups huddled together, Chase finally voiced their collective unease. "Marshall… what's going on with you?" he asked cautiously.
Marshall looked up from his half-eaten steak, a streak of red dripping down his chin. His eyes, once full of playful energy, now seemed distant, almost reptilian. "What do you mean, Chase?" he rumbled, his voice deeper, rougher than before.
Everest nudged him gently. "Marshall, you've been… different lately. Sleeping all day, not wanting your kibble, and these… steaks."
Marshall shrugged, a movement that seemed subtly predatory. "I'm just… hungry," he growled, tearing another piece of meat with his obsidian claws.
The pups exchanged worried glances. This wasn't the Marshall they knew. This was… something else. Ryder, who had been watching from the sidelines, stepped forward. "Marshall, we need to talk about this. These changes… they're concerning."
Marshall let out a low growl, a sound that sent shivers down Zuma's spine. "Changes? What changes? I'm still Marshall," he snarled, his voice laced with a growl that wasn't entirely familiar.
Ryder held up a calming paw. "Marshall, we know you're changing. But the way you're acting… it's not you. We want to help you, but we need to understand what's happening."
Marshall stared at them, his gaze intense. For a moment, there was a flicker of the old Marshall in his eyes, a flicker of fear and confusion. Then, the reptilian glint returned, and he let out a guttural laugh. "Help me?" he scoffed. "I don't need your help. I'm stronger now. Faster. Better."
He stood up, his dark silver scales catching the moonlight. He looked taller, his posture more predatory. Then, with a swift movement, he turned and disappeared into the night, leaving the pups staring after him in stunned silence.
Fear mingled with a deep sense of betrayal in their hearts. Marshall, their friend, their teammate, was changing. And they weren't sure if they recognized him anymore.
