He has to. He's been fighting it all night. He's going to lose. Nature wins out. It always does. His heart be so fast he has to gulp air. Tommy clenches his eyes shut willing the sensations to stop but they don't. Legs itch as well as hurt and he clenches his toes to see if it will stop, but of course it doesn't. The change has begun. Skin stretches and the sensations deepen as he tries to block the pain. What a trivial word that is. Inhaling deeply and focusing his attention on the change, dropping to the ground before he's doubled over and forced down. It's never easy for him without help from his King, perhaps because he's still so weak in the ways of this world. Leg muscles knot and convulse, as he gasps and strains to relax, before muscles finally relent and untwist themselves around those cracking reshaping bones. Ten seconds of hell and then it's over. Stretching and blinking he looks around at the new world, mutated to an array of colors not made for the human eye to see. Muzzle is lifted as he inhales deeply the scents of fresh concrete from the house, day old sweat, and potted plants, but beyond that is the scent of the snow packed forest. Scurrying forward on thick back haunches his body lumbers with a grace all it's own. It is not the sleek glide of wolf or cat, no the rats move to a rhythmn all their own. Lips curl back with a long drawn out his from between those now scissor like incissors and it echoes into the woods. He can smell prey, something that will taste good bleeding down his throat, and without thought he is off in that direction like a swarming white mass of destruction.
(a little something since I missed the full moon with the Rodere.)
