The sun's gentle rays caressed the forest in the tender way that only one season could provide: Spring. Flowers bloomed, animals frolicked, adventurers thawed out their gear and prepared themselves for another year of trials and tribulations. To one very unique mercenary, however, Spring meant one very important thing: that she had made it through another Winter and it was time to stock up on her special flower.

This mercenary's name was Karen; an unusually tall woman with an athletic build and a pretty face, she hid a secret from the world around her. Or at least, that was her plan most of the time, but due to various reasons, her secret came to light more often than she'd like.

What seemed to be a long year had past since the adventurous gal had been tricked, or so she adamantly maintained, into buying a cursed trinket. It didn't take long after that until Karen found herself swelling in size, hands and feet shifting into hard, unyielding hooves. To her surprise, her body had transformed into that of a large horse's, and thus began a lifetime quest of trying to find some way to return to normalcy, whilst consuming a unique flower to keep the curse at bay.

This flower was the reason that she was out in the middle of these sunny woods, the unnamed acres of trees a possible hotspot of her precious plant. Usually her searches would be boring, uneventful trips into forgotten glades, overgrown clearings, or anywhere else that may have the smallest chance of harboring the flower.

Karen found herself wishing that this had been one of those quiet trips as she tucked herself into as small of a ball as she could manage, tumbling out of reach of the large, and very angry, orc. The orc's weapon of choice, a club the size of Karen's head, whistled as it cut through the air where the adventurer had just been.

The club bounced off of a nearby tree, staggering the large orc-man and giving Karen the precious few seconds she needed to scramble behind her saviour: the tree. The orc gave off a roar as his brutish eyes darted from right to left, scanning for his prey. He seemed oblivious to the fact that his target had simply ducked behind the very tree he stood next to.

A pus-green skinned fist shot out and through the bark in rage, the orc growling menacingly as he continued to scan the surroundings. His black mohawk flopped comically from side-to-side as he turned his head to and fro; his modesty protected by a leather loincloth. One that fluttered perilously in the breeze, though he seemed not to care nor be embarrassed.

Karen looked up at the brute's hand as it squirmed in the tree above her head, realizing that he had gotten himself stuck even if his clearly vast intelligence hadn't registered it yet. A slow grin spread across her face as she began to back away from the tree, waiting until she had gotten to a safe distance before she called out, “Hey ugly!

At the sound of her voice, the orc tried to turn and found himself stopped by his own rage-fueled punch. He grunted and growled, straining to free his arm whilst simultaneously trying to charge the mercenary. The tree bent with the force of his struggles, and at the sound of creaking wood, Karen decided that now would be a good time to make her escape. As she scampered away, she failed to notice how a little pouch had come untied during the skirmish, and now drifted lazily to the forest floor. It came open just enough to let a blue flower petal peek out at the sky.

Karen panted as she finally rested against a rock, having hustled to this secluded spring. She looked around quickly, deeming the rocky area safe enough as she collapsed against the stone and tried to remain out of sight of the treeline around her.

Reaching out with calloused hands, she dipped them into the cool water of the spring and washed them clean. Once satisfied, she proceeded to splash water onto her long face and bring some to her lips. She happily drank, feeling more and more sure of her escape as the moments passed. She even took the time to untie her hair and secure it once more, in a tight brown ponytail that brushed against the back of her neck.

Man, that was close... She thought to herself, resting back against the gray stone and letting her gaze wander aimlessly. I never expected to find orcs here, this place doesn't seem like their kind of stomping grounds... I'd better keep my guard up from here on out.

She laughed softly, rolling her shoulders and adjusting the single pauldron covering the left shoulder. It was barely scuffed from her nimble roll, having been a key protector in the daring move. Blue eyes twinkled with adrenaline as she dug through her pack, taking this moment to fill her canteen with cool, clean, spring water.

A glance at her reflection was enough to kill her celebratory joy, however; since her hair was tied back, her ears were left exposed to the elements. This made it rather obvious that at some point since encountering the orc and now, they had become pointed. Karen was used to this sight, having seen it dozens and dozens of times, but she still couldn't stop herself from reaching up to rub the new points.

She sighed as she did so, knowing what it meant: her curse was beginning to win out over the flower's dispelling effects. This time, she seemed a little more relaxed about the change, confident that her storage of flowers would last a bit longer. They were just pointy ears, like any of the elf-folk that wandered throughout this land. At worst, she'd just get confused for an elf! Of course, the adventurer had no idea that her precious pouch laid forgotten on the forest floor behind her.

Tugging on her pack and risking a glance over her stone sanctuary, she stood up and began to move back toward the treeline. She made sure to go in the opposite direction that she had come from, having no intentions on running into any more of those vicious orcs.

Twigs and leaves crunched under her leather boots, branches and shrubs brushing futilely at her light armour. Maybe it couldn't stand up to a slashing sword, but inconvenient brush was no match for the adventurer's tough outfit. Her hike was set at a brisk, but easy pace, the comfortable wind making her ponytail flutter about as she continued on.

Alert sapphire eyes darted about, taking in the scenery and looking for any telltale sign of that magic-dispelling flower. An odd bush, a warped tree, some sort of magically-altered animal, anything that would point to magic having permeated these woods. In the end, that's what mattered to her: finding these magic hotspots and hoping for her temporary fix, or an overall cure.

Another sigh rewarded this train of thought, Karen's gaze turning wistful as she remembered her days of plundering deep caves for long-lost treasure. The deadly traps and dangerous creatures were the spice of her life, and the inevitable bounty was only part of her reward for these trips. She enjoyed the challenge, longed for the forgotten corners of the earth.

And now where am I? On a flower hunt to keep myself on two legs! Ugh. She shook her head in despair, quickly deciding that she needed to end this kind of thinking before it got out of hand. She had a mission now and if she didn't focus, she would find herself eating grass on all fours for another week.

She found herself itching at various spots on her body as she marched along, the patches of irritation focused around her wrists, tummy and ankles. Karen couldn't seem to stop scratching, fingernails scraping at skin to no avail. She refused to acknowledge what this familiar feeling meant, deciding instead to write it off as some sort of allergy to a plant or bug bite.

The afternoon continued on, relatively uneventful compared to her earlier encounter. Twice she had gotten her hopes up; once finding an odd-coloured rabbit which fled into an otherwise normal-looking hole, the other being a rather interestingly shaped tree with bright pink flowers.

Karen paused by the tree, examining it and trying to ignore the fact that her fingernails had turned pure black in colour. She rested her hand on the tree's white bark, leaning in close to look at the leaves. They certainly weren't the ones that she yearned for, but they still warranted a moment's look. She stepped back from the odd tree and cast her gaze around the surroundings, looking for any other plants that stood out like this one.

The adventurer searched for a good five minutes before finally letting herself give up and move on. The sun has begun its descent, evening quickly vanquishing the afternoon as shadows stretched longer. Her thoughts veered from finding the flower to making camp and resting for the night.

Night had taken control by the time Karen found a clearing that she was satisfied with. Memories of the earlier attack were on the forefront of her thoughts as she picked the makeshift shelter of cluster of rocks circled around a patch of grass. Her camp consisted of her bedroll, freshly unrolled and laid in place, and her lantern, glowing merrily against the darkness.

It provided ample light for her to read her map by, trying her best to figure out where she had already searched and where she should head to next. The near-constant itching in her ears attempted to distract her, but the willful adventurer did her best to ignore it. The same went for the stiffness in her fingers and toes, Karen was determined to press on and make her petals last as long as she could make them.

The adventurer also took this quiet moment to examine the itchy patches of skin, which had begun to creep up along her arms and legs. Her eyes were met with the sight of short, brown hairs pushing out of the follicles on her wrists. She knew the same must be true of her ankles, and judging by how the feeling inched along her flesh, it wasn't going to stop there.

Her map held her attention for another hour, handfuls of granola nuts and berries vanishing into her hungry mouth during her reading. She rolled up the parchment, confident that she knew where her goal was tomorrow: a few more clearings that weren't too far from her current position. She packed away her rations and her map, snuffed out her lantern and laid back on her bedroll.

The bedroll had seen better days: the fabric was worn and the padding within not only poked out, most of it had already vacated its cloth prison. Once thick, the bedding was now but a pale, floppy shadow of its former glory, but Karen didn't seem to care. The roll was special to her; it had always been there for her to embrace her as the silent nights surrounded her.

A sigh escaped her lips, her breath ghosting into the stars above. Blue eyes stared skyward, brow furrowed with thought. She knew that she was letting her mind wander, her thoughts flowing wherever they pleased. No matter how many times she had to stretch her flower supply, no matter how many nights she fell asleep starting to turn, she never grew used to it.

Karen didn't want to sleep for one simple reason: she didn't want to be greeted by more changes in the morning. They were always random, and never in any sensible pattern. She would rather lay in the quiet and peace, gazing up at the moon above and thinking about her bedroll, of all things.

Ugh. C'mon girl, you're stronger than this. Sleep! She shook her head gently as she thought. I'm sure I'll find some more tomorrow, and if not, I've got my reserves! It's okay, really.

But it didn't seem to be enough to convince her, the cursed mercenary continuing to lay awake and listen to the forest sounds around her. She found small comfort in the cacophony of insects, the occasional rustle of a small animal disappearing into the brush.

Karen finally forced her eyes shut and breathed deeply; in, out, in, out. She resorted to counting sheep, jumping over a fence in some lovely plain. She was asleep before she realized that the sheep had transformed into horses.

The morning sunlight greeted her with a warm embrace, the breeze like a gentle caress as she slowly woke up. It was mid-morning, before the sun had risen to its apex and just after the dew had melted. Karen sat up and stretched, arms out and mouth wide.

It took her a few moments to realize that she could see that her nose was not only further out, but bigger, wider. A horse snout had begun to form in her sleep, her long face brought longer. Equine ears twitched within her brown hair, catching every noise around her with ease.

A gulp, a sigh, various grunts, and she was up. Standing straight, hands exploring her body for any other abnormalities, for anywhere else the curse may have advanced. The stiffness in her toes had gotten near-unbearable, though luckily, her fingers hadn't gotten any worse. The black nails still made her nervous, and she found herself frequently cracking and stretching the digits.

This moment of relaxation was quickly interrupted by the return of the itch, now up to her shoulders and hips. Her flesh burned and crawled, her stomach and chest next. She found herself blushing with embarrassment, resolving to do everything she could do to avoid scratching anymore. The brown hairs had coalesced into the short fur coat of an equine, enveloping her arms and legs.

Karen was rather delighted to note that her changes were minimal during the night; only her face and feet seemed to be particularly affected, her fingers barely so. The fur was only a minor annoyance, as long as she could push the sensations to the back of her mind. She allowed herself a small smile, which quickly fell as she realized that it would only get faster as she began to move around.

Another stretch was followed by a loud yawn, ended by a soft nicker as the adventurer took a moment to adjust her armour back to comfortable status. Years of experience had given her the ability to sleep in the thick leather, but it still needed occasional adjusting. She collected her pack and her lantern, rolling her bedroll up and setting out into the trees once more.

The morning continued along, the sun happily climbing its way up toward the very top of the sky. Karen amused herself with various musings: were forests more fun to explore than caves? Traps or orcs; which was worse? She answered that one rather quickly: anything cursed was high on her list of undesirable things.

Blue eyes scanned all over, a trained gaze taking in every detail of the environment. All she seemed to encounter was simple plant after simple plant. It all seemed very unproductive for the longest time, until a gentle rustle in the brush caught her attention.

A rabbit hopped about within the bushes, peeking out at the mercenary with curious brown eyes. Karen smiled at it, finding the little creature to be quite cute... and delicious. She saw the potential of a good lunch, not a fluffy little pet. Lowering herself into a practiced crouch, she slowly crept toward the little animal.

Progress was good, the rabbit nearly in reach when a sharp pain in Karen's boots caught her attention. Well, more demanded her attention, as she found herself tottering forward into the bush. The long-eared meal fled as the tall adventurer crashed into the brush, twigs stinging at her face and hands.

She growled in frustration, looking back at her feet to see what had caused her to slip up. Her boots laid forgotten back where she had begun to fall, giving her the perfect view of her feet pulling into themselves. The fleshy knots quickly coated over with a thick nail, shiny, black, and tough. The distinctive shapes of equine hind hooves now rested at the ends of her furry legs.

She cursed, or attempted to, “Suuhhiiit!” The intended swear was garbled by her changing jaw structure, muddled by her swelling lips. She let out a snort and forced herself to lie still and breathe. She needed to calm herself, it wouldn't bode well for her to lose her head.

Karen opened her eyes and stared at the ground for a moment, slowly breathing in and out. With a shake of her head, she forced herself up onto two legs once more. She teetered, wobbling on the unsteady hooves before she planted them into the dirt. A few paces later and she was comfortable enough to continue on, pausing just long enough to retrieve her boots.

In a small way, the hooves were a blessing: the crunchy branches underneath had no effect on the tough material. Karen knew this inside, and a small part of her was indeed thankful, but the majority of her being was devoted to anger about this inconvenient curse. She carried on, once more trying to ignore the tingling in her face, the tightness of her clothes.

After awhile of fruitless searching, it seemed that she had to adjust the back of her pants every few moments. With a small grumble, she relented and pushed the back of her pants down just enough to let a small bulge wiggle about. The beginnings of a flowing tail were starting to appear above her rump. She tried to focus on the fact that she had saved herself a lot of discomfort by simply letting it out now.

Karen managed to reach the first clearing on her task list only to find it disappointingly barren: dead trees and overgrown weeds were all that greeted her there. It seemed that anything magical that had grown there was long since extinct. She decided to make haste for the second clearing before the afternoon grew too late.

As she made to leave the rather depressing clearing, she found herself hesitating. Her gaze was brought down to her hands as she realized that the sensations coming from them had changed. The middle fingers had begun to mold together, flesh fusing from the base of the digits and creeping upward. Beside this, the pointer and pinky fingers seemed to have started shrinking. She sighed, then followed her plan and made a hasty exit from the area.

Her good friend the sun continued to warm the air around her as it passed noon, taking its time in strolling toward the horizon once more. She passed tree after tree, plant after plant, taking the occasional sip from her canteen and bite of her rations. Every so often she reached up and rubbed at her face, the snout growing larger and larger by the hour.

The itch had returned with a vengeance, creeping up her neck with determination. Her body felt so stuffy within her clothes, and not just because of her swelling shape. She squinted as her hands came up and she began to scratch at a cheek, trying to ignore the sight of her deforming fingers. Karen forced herself to continue on, fingers furiously working at the itchy skin as much as they could manage without hurting herself.

By the time she had reached the second clearing, her face was clearly that of a horse's. The new position of her eyes gave her a much larger sight range as she gazed around the new clearing. This one was definitely more interesting than the first, namely for the remains of a camp resting within the approximate center.

Karen stood on the edge of the clearing, her shining blue eyes bright and alert as she scanned the area. Her lips parted, heavy jaw opening as she tried to shout out a greeting. Her jaw and throat worked hard, struggling to form anything close to a human sound. In the end, she had to settle for a strange mix of a whinny and a “hello”.

She edged closer, looking for any sign of life. The burnt-out campfire was surrounded by two tents, each tent appearing to be able to house two occupants. An alarming splash of red on one of the tents caught her attention, and she couldn't help but nicker as she approached.

Once more, she lowered herself into her crouch-walk, this time shuffling awkwardly on changing legs. Twice, she stumbled; twice, she caught herself. The growing hair on her new tail brushed against the leaves on the ground, threatening to ruin her stealthiness. Aching, slightly-deformed fingers reached out and brushed open the flap of one of the tents, the one with the dark stain upon the fabric.

She gagged as the pungent smell of rot assaulted her sensitive nose, stumbling back and falling onto her rump gracelessly. A pained whinny escaped her huge lips, her growing tail squished between her buttocks and the hard ground. Reaching back to rub at the sore area, Karen leaned forward to peer into the tent.

Within were a pair of bodies, bruised, bloody, appearing to have been brutalized in their sleep. It didn't take a scholar to figure this one out: the orcs had been here. These two only looked a couple of days old to her eyes, and she found herself casting a wary gaze around.

A search of the camp affirmed her theory: it had been raided. There were no valuables to speak of, the clothes on the bodies even torn apart and left in shreds. The orcs had apparently killed these two in their sleep and ransacked their supplies and bodies. She found herself gazing thoughtfully at the second tent, clean of any stains or signs of struggle.

She shook her heavy head, her neck having been trying its best to grow along with it to help her support the thicker skull. This was depressing, sure, but not her immediate issue. Still, she couldn't help but feel bad for the couple's fate, and muse about the owners of the other tent. The orcs must have had something nasty planned for them if they were willing to kidnap them.

Forcing herself to leave behind the remnants of the camp, she made for the treeline once more. She certainly didn't feel safe around this clearing, especially not with the sun beginning to dip below the horizon. As she hurried away, adjusting her armour all the way, she made herself not look back.

It wasn't until night was well underway did she let herself stop against a large tree. She had made considerable distance from the gruesome find, but even now she still felt uneasy. Karen knew that part of it were the equine instincts bubbling below her own, but she remained well aware that the orcs had made this forest their home.

Finally, a stroke of luck in Karen's adventure: the tree she had decided to rest against turned out to be a large, old oak, hollow and sporting a hole inside big enough for her to rest comfortably. She slipped inside and patted the tree thankfully, enjoying its shelter as she peered out at the night.

Idly she reached down for her pouch of petals, deciding to take some now to prevent her from going full horse. Her middle and ring fingers had melded together into one thick digit, the black fingernails combined into one solid covering at the tip. The index and pinky fingers were withering away, shrinking in proportion to her the big digit's growth.

The solid nail taking over her middle fingers clacked against her belt buckle before it explored along for the pouch. First one way, then the other, a sense of doom slowly dawning on the changing adventurer. Her shrinking digits wiggled uselessly against the leather, merely reaffirming what the big middle digit was suggesting: her pouch was gone.

Karen sprang to her feet, hooves in this case, wobbling and stumbling as she scrambled the few feet to where her pack rested. She clapped her malformed hands around the zipper and tugged, nearly ripping the bag open. Her search was frantic; items spilled out from within and scattered across the tree's wide interior.

No such luck; the changing adventurer had no idea that the missing pouch remained on the forest floor where she had been attacked. She also had no idea what she was going to do to stop her change. Aloud, she shouted out interesting mixes of whinnies and curse words, the sounds echoing out from within the tree.

No! No, no, no, no, this cannot be happening! Karen screamed inside of her head, snorting out loud as she rummaged about within her pack.

Almost as if it sensed her panic, her rising blood pressure, the changes began to increase in pace. She could feel them happening now. Her body swelling within her already-tight clothes, her shrinking fingers picking up the pace as they faded into her elongating wrists. Her long, flowing tail swished angrily from side-to-side, making clear her anxiety and fear.

Karen forced herself to freeze, breathing deeply through her large nose, standing still as she leaned against the wall. She hung her head, closing her eyes and concentrating on remaining calm. She couldn't lose her cool now, she would doom herself to another period of horse-dom.

The changing adventurer needed to distract herself with something, with anything, and as she attempted to calm down, a brief moment of clarity took over. Her clothes were stretched, sure, but at the moment, they were still intact. She thought that she may be able to keep them that way.

Reaching down was becoming awkward, but she forced her changing limbs downward and as close to the laces on her vest as she could manage. The thick-nailed digits clapped together occasionally as she worked at the laces and buttons, nearly biting her tongue as she tried to concentrate. The work was slow-going, but she figured out a system of hooking what was once her pointer fingers through the laces and popping the buttons with the thick nails.

It was an awkward sight, the changing mercenary trying desperately to hook shrinking digits into the thick yarn of the laces. Every slip of the fingers caused her to curse quietly, or attempt to anyway, her patience rapidly failing. A large, odd smile stretched her lips as the laces fell away, the buttons proving to be less of a challenge as she simply snapped them off.

Finally unbuttoned, her vest felt less constricting as it merely stretched over her shoulders and sides instead of across her front. There wasn't anything she could do for her shoulder pauldron or the leather chest covering, both of them just out of her reach now. Karen settled for going lower, black nails clacking against the metal of her belt buckle.

At first, she eyed her fading pointer and pinky fingers, trying to judge if they would be any use in this situation. Karen decided that she could at least try, and lowering her hands, she wiggled the pointer and pinky fingers until they had a loose grip. She gave a few tugs and pulls, trying to work it free without damaging. This proved fruitless, however, and she had to move onto her backup plan.

She attempted to use the angle that her nails were taking on to pry the belt buckle loose, trying to pop it off just like she had done with her buttons. The buckle resisted more than the buttons had, rebuffing her efforts to free herself from the trap that her pants had become.

Mumbling whinnies and curses, she began to sweat a little from struggles. She had already given up on getting the pants off, and was now focused solely on getting that buckle undone. A particularly hard push with her near-hooves finally rewarded her with her freedom, the belt falling undone and hanging around her swelling waist.

She awarded herself an internal smile, closing her eyes as she lowered herself to the floor of the tree. Keeping her eyes closed, she began to breathe deeply, in and out. The changing woman had to sleep, no matter how much she really didn't want to. Rest would be what kept her going tomorrow as she ventured to the last clearing on her map.

It took a long time for her to finally drift off to sleep, her dreams restless, full of images of being a horse forever. She tossed and turned all night long, her growing body tearing at her clothes. Her armour strained throughout the night, pieces of it bursting off and dropping to the wooden floor. The leather caressing her hips finally gave in, tumbling to the ground with quiet thuds. It wasn't long after that when her pauldrons joined them in their new retirement.

A tall girl meant a tall horse, the curse conserving her mass in a rather curious way. This was her first obstacle upon arising in the morning, finding that she had lost her hands during the night. Taking stock of her clothing situation, she noted that even though she was very nearly a horse at this point, her shirt and leather vest had survived, and were still stretched over her shoulders. Her pants seemed to be in a worse situation, straining over a large equine rump, which they were clearly not meant to cover.

The vest was open, the undershirt slowly ripping down the middle with each of her movements. The button to her jeans had flown off and disappeared into the forest outside, her belt and pants hanging open awkwardly. As far as she was concerned, she was still clothed. She could even ignore the big tears going through her shirt, ignore the seams tearing down the legs of her pants. Her tail gave a momentarily happy flick as she felt more motivated to tackle this new day.

She stood up with a bit of a struggle, thankful that she was still able to remain on two legs. Karen's top felt so heavy and gravity threatened to pull her down into a more 'proper' position every moment. Precious time was wasted struggling with her pack, trying to get the bag onto her awkward back and secure enough to carry. By the time she attempted to exit the tree, she was already incredibly frustrated.

It didn't help once she found herself unable to move after stepping partway through the opening. She grunted, looking down to see what the problem was: her legs and rump resembled that of a horse. The changing adventurer resembled an equine satyr of sorts, and the problem was her big rump getting caught in the hole.

Angry, and reasonably so, she whacked the bark of the tree with her fore hooves, splintering it with little effort. Karen's ears flicked at the sound of tearing fabric, the tortured cry of denim catching her attentions and fueling her need to escape. She squirmed, writhed, struggled, desperately trying to free herself from her wooden prison. It took quite a few tugs before the wood cracked just enough to release her, sending her tumbling forward and onto her face.

Her brown mane fell disheveled to the side of her equine head and neck as her flowing tail twitched with agitation. She grumbled into the dirt, barely managing to make such a human noise at this point. With quite a bit of effort, Karen managed to pick herself back up onto two legs once more.

She felt a breeze against her legs and posterior, looking down as she leaned against the tree for stability. She noticed that all that remained on her from her pants was her belt and tatters held in place by it. The tree's opening had claimed the rest of the denim, the remains fluttering in the wind, trapped by the splintered wood.

The sun's merriness and warmth was lost on her today, the changing mercenary's movement could only be described as 'trudging'. Awkwardly, at that, and only more and more so as the morning ticked by. By the time afternoon hit, she was barely able to keep herself upright. At least her vest remained in place over her thick shoulders, providing her with a little semblance of her former body.

She huffed and snorted, forcing herself to continue on with single-minded determination. It took her a moment to realize that she had left the tree line and had arrived in the last clearing as her head hung, her thoughts having been focused on simply walking.

With an excited whinny, she looked around eagerly, nearly skipping as she moved about the clearing. She looked behind every tree, under every rock, lingering near an oddly-coloured plant that caught her attention. However, for how interesting its colour was, the usefulness of it was questionable.

Minutes ticked by. Hours passed. It had dawned on her, but she didn't want to admit it to herself: this clearing was empty. Useless. She was doomed. The pacing began, Karen lost in thoughts and woes on what to do, her tail twitching and flicking. She didn't even see the root until it snagged a hind hoof and sent her toppling forward.

She caught herself on her ex-hands easily, though what worried her was the loud crack that had accompanied her fall. Her ears were filled with the sound of a large rip, her vest tearing straight down the back. Her fears grew more and more as she found herself unable to return to a bipedal stature. The change began its final stage, the home stretch, moving rapidly to take over her body.

The chorus of cracks and pops finally subsided, leaving the unfortunate adventurer once more in her equine body. She swung her heavy head from side to side, trying her very best to squash the anger and bitterness rising within her. She pawed at the ground, leaving deep furrows in the dirt, managing to give off an exasperated snort.

Karen's destroyed vest clung to her for a few more moments before giving up, split into two sides. Both sides drifted to the forest floor, laying there and seeming to look up at her apologetically. She blinked down at them for a moment and managed a sigh.

Ah well. She thought. This isn't anything new. I'll just have to keep going until I can find some help. She seemed oddly calm now that the change had completed and she had a few moments to adjust to it.

Her still-pretty blue eyes gazed around, examining the clearing during her moment of calm clarity. Nothing useful showed itself and she had to accept it: she needed another plan. Karen began to run her options over in her head, finally settling on the only one that seemed like progress.

She needed to get out of the woods and back to civilization. If she could get back to a town, she could skulk around as best as she could manage and listen for more rumours of the magic-dispelling flower. It wasn't the best option, but it was certainly better than standing around in these woods until something found her.

With a shake of her flanks to test how secure that her pack was on her strong back, she set off. Twigs snapped, leaves crunched under her hooves, the forest floor continuing to pose no threat to the sturdy, thick material. She remained thankful for that, at least.

By the time the cursed equine had made her way to the edge of the forest, the sun was well on its way below the horizon. Karen had to squint her large sapphire eyes against the fading rays of light as she looked around for somewhere to possibly camp for the night. There! In the distance, a group of small buildings caught her eye.

Setting off at a fast trot, the trip to the buildings was made before the sun had finished sinking out of sight. The sky was an inky blue in colour, stars twinkling above as the moon crawled upward. She huffed from the exertion, taking in the sight of the buildings curiously.

A well-lit farmhouse and what appeared to be a large stable were the main points of interest in what she was quickly realizing was a farm. It didn't dawn on her that perhaps it would be in her best interest to find somewhere else to rest until the man's drawl sounded from behind her, “Well, lookit this! A fine mare, jus' sittin' out in the open... now how did ya get here, darlin'?”

All she could do was stare at the man as he reached out with a strong, weathered hand, gripping the remains of her belt and tearing them off with one fluid motion. The quick action caused her to shuffle nervously, her tail flicking from side-to-side as she watched him with nervous blue eyes. His own brown eyes were curious, studying the leather belt and then her pack where it rested upon her back.

“Now how did this get onto ya? This is fo' people like meself, not horses!” The man exclaimed, then guffawed, clearly amused by the find, “Oh gosh, you are a catch, now ain'tcha?”

Karen responded by nickering at the farmer, shaking her large head and trying to communicate that she didn't belong here. The effect was lost on him as he interpreted it as fear at being outside in a strange place at dark. Not an unreasonable assumption, considering the circumstances.

He patted her flank before placing that calloused hand on her thick neck, using his expertise with horses in an attempt to calm her down, “Now, now, filly, I'mma help ya out. Yer safe here.”

The farmer gave Karen what he must have thought was a winning smile, “Jus' come with me and we'll get'cha a nice stable. Lucky fer ya, I've got a vacancy at the 'Clancy Inn'!”

He positively roared with laughter as he led the adventurer-turned-horse over to the large barn she had seen while approaching. What was once a beacon of shelter was quickly becoming an omen of prison. She began to consider running, well aware that the human had no chance of catching her equine form.

She even turned her head to look back at the fading treeline, weighing her options. On one hand, she could break away and run, retreat to the forest and stay on the lookout for those orcs. On the other, she could go with this farmer; he seemed nice, and he was offering shelter and, presumably, food.

By the time Karen had made up her mind, she had already been led into the spacious barn. Three stalls lined one wall, two of them empty; the third was occupied by a large stallion, who was eyeing the newcomer curiously. His black-furred head peeked over the stall door, deep brown eyes watching the cursed adventurer's every move.

As the man led Karen over to the empty stall beside the stallion's, he noticed how interested the other horse seemed to be. He chuckled, pausing to open the door for Karen, “Aw, now look what I found for ya, Clyde. A pretty lady friend! Be a gentleman now, y'hear?”

The female horse trotted into the stall easily, finding it to be rather spacious. Clearly it was meant for a horse of her size. Turning about, she realized that the farmer was leaning over the closed stall door, his eyes studying her curiously. Karen gave a soft snort and nickered at him in a questioning fashion.

Whether he caught the intonation or not was unclear, but he responded anyway, “Now who would leave a lovely workhorse like yerself out at night? All the way out here...” He reached up to scratch the scruff of orange fuzz that tried to coat his head, “Aw heck, I can keep ya around if'n I can't find yer owner. You look like you'd be good fer workin'! Ah, 'fore I forget...”

His large hands reached up once more, this time grasping the pack that remained in place on Karen. He was gentle in removing this one, undoing the straps and holding it like a cloth baby. Lifting the flap to peer inside, he studied the contents within, “This here is all adventurin' gear. Musta been yer rider's, eh?”

To her surprise, he reached up and hung the pack from a nearby hook in the wall, apparently unwilling to take what was contained within. He nodded and smiled to himself, turning to give Karen a pat on her equine snout. His exit was rather abrupt, the large man moving fast as he shut the large door behind himself. A moment later, her sensitive ears picked up the sound of a padlock being put in place.

A brief feeling of being trapped overcame Karen, causing her to pace within her stall anxiously. Her flowing tail swished in time with her swinging head, a snort escaping her nose.

What the Hell have I gotten myself into? I need to get out of here... I am NOT a workhorse! She huffed, pawing at the dirt and straw-covered ground.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a nicker from the stallion and she swung her head around to look over in his direction. Clyde was blinking those brown eyes at her, his large snout pressed against the bars that separated the stalls. He was big, about her size but a little smaller, his fur black with gray flecks along his flanks.

His mane sported those same gray streaks, flowing gently down his neck and shoulders as he sniffled at the bars. The stallion was obviously interested in his new stall-mate, which only caused Karen to worry more about escape. She laid flat on her belly, folding her legs underneath herself just as a horse would as she forced herself to settle down.

On the other side of the bars, Clyde did the same, copying her. She blinked her sapphire eyes at him and then shook her head gently. He looked young to her, he probably wasn't used to having other horses around. The adventurer decided that right now, that fact wasn't important. What was important, however, was sleep. Comfortable sleep in what was very nearly a home situation.

Such barnyard creature comforts weren't lost on Karen, and before she even had a chance to think about sheep, she was out like a flame in water. The stallion continued to blink at her for a little while longer before he, too, closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Karen's peaceful dreams were interrupted by a loud, jolly voice: “Wakey-wakey, filly, it's time ta work!”

She opened her blue eyes and found herself staring at the farmer smiling back at her, this time joined by a young girl with shoulder-length auburn hair. Karen slowly stood, stretching her quadrupedal body before approaching the stall's gate. She studied the pair cautiously, noting the simple, practical farmer garb that they both sported. Simple cloth, stitched with strong lace and meant to withstand a day's worth of work.

The young girl could barely see over the gate and for the first time, Karen noticed that the little redhead clutched a bag of oats. With a soft, almost adorable grunt, she hefted the heavy bag up toward the equine's snout. Karen blinked a couple of times before she realized what the girl was doing: feeding her!

Her snout was buried in the bag before she realized how horse-like this action was. She swiftly discovered that she did not care in the least, happily gobbling down the nutritious oats and grain. The bag was left a lot lighter than it had been, and the young redhead had no trouble lifting it up to Clyde.

As the stallion was fed, the farmer opened Karen's door and gestured for her to come out. Without hesitating, the cursed equine stepped out and followed the farmer outside. She could see that the sun was barely peeking over the horizon, the day literally just dawning. He led her over to a horse-led plow and as she stood staring at it curiously, he slapped a harness into place on her back.

Startled, she jumped and glared down at the man. A protesting whinny escaped her big lips, a snort bursting out from her nostrils. The farmer stroked along her neck soothingly, expertly tightening the straps of the harness as they slid into place. Before long, she found herself strapped to the plow and dreading what was about to happen.

Karen looked annoyed, so much so that even the man could catch onto it, “Why ya gotta look so upset, darlin'? Yer strong, this'll be nothin' to ya!” He took his place behind the plow and called out to her, jostling one of the straps, “Giddyup!”

For a moment, Karen contemplated mischief. Sure, she was rested because of the nice barn she had slept in, but was it worth this? In the end, her conscience won out. She was, at heart, a noble woman, and she felt that she should repay his kindness. That didn't mean she would have to enjoy this, though.

Nor did she, for as the sun began its long ascent toward noon, she began to tug the plow along. She began to welcome that odd carry-over effect from the curse, grateful for her still-athletic body. The work wasn't difficult, but tedious, and as she pulled and plowed, her mind wandered.

So how am I going to get out of this one? She mused to herself, letting her body work mostly unattended. Farmer friendly here is too nice to just walk away from. I wonder how well his farm is doing?

She didn't have long to wonder about it, however, the farmer becoming more and more talkative as the work went on. He told her everything: his name, Clancy Tiller; about his daughter, Moira; how his farm was faring, which was decently, 'enough to support him and his daughter'.

Clancy's stories were upbeat and helped to pass the morning, giving Karen something else to focus on besides the plow or her own musings. He had stories for every occasion, lingering on the funnier ones and skirting around the more mundane ones. He seemed to delight in exaggerating various details, making trips to the store into grandiose adventures.

Over time, Karen found herself enjoying his speeches, listening attentively as he began to talk about his wife. The joy in his voice faltered a bit as he spoke of her death years ago, due to a murder most foul, still unsolved to this day. Moira was all he had, and he was determined to keep her happy and raise her properly.

The adventurer found herself gaining a new respect for Clancy, whinnying at him to continue his stories. He laughed and patted her flank, “Okay, darlin', ya can stop now.”

Karen was surprised, having expected the work to go on longer. She tapped a hoof against the ground to show her eagerness to continue, before realizing there wasn't anything left to continue on. The field had been plowed into nice, neat rows, and was ready for the seeds that would be planted later on.

As she looked about, Clancy removed her harness and wiped the sweat off of his brow. He leaned against her and gave her another of his charming smiles, “Lookit that, girl! Whole field plowed and only halfa the day spent! Yer better'an Clyde, maybe you can teach him some tricks!”

He guffawed as he led her over to a water trough underneath a large oak and sat nearby, letting her drink if she felt thirsty. Indeed she did, dipping her snout into the cool water and slurping greedily. Karen huffed afterward and shook the sweat off of her head, turning to trot over to Clancy once more.

The man was resting back against the tree, his eyes shut and arms folded behind his head. Karen snorted, then pawed at the ground in front of him. A few inquisitive whinnies elicited no response and she realized that he had fallen asleep. She shook her heavy head in disbelief and turned away, setting to wander about the farm.

It didn't take her long to find Moira watching Clyde trot about a field meant for them to graze and run about in. Karen stepped up beside the young girl and leaned her head down, snuffling at the girl's hair. Moira giggled as she turned and patted Karen's head, her fingers exploring the white star mark on the equine's forehead.

“Hi there, lady! That's what I'mma call you, 'Lady'. You're a pretty horse, where did you come from?” Moira's voice was sweet, the smile on her face reaching all the way up to her green eyes. Karen noticed the odd colour and decided that they must be her mother's eye colour.

In answer to Moira's question, Karen leaned down to allow the girl up onto her back. The young daughter hesitated for just a moment before she eagerly hopped into place, her weight nothing to the strong horse. With a soft whinny, Karen took off a comfortable trot, aimlessly carrying Moira throughout the farm.

It didn't take the adventurer long to realize that Moira took after her father in more ways than just her hair. She shared the same gift of storytelling; and she spent the entire time on Karen's back telling her things that her father had said, but from the interesting perspective of a young girl.

The sunlight was fading before Karen realized how late it had gotten, the quiet aimless trotting of the afternoon mixed with Moira's stories had caused the time to fly by. Clancy had since awoken from his nap and went into the house hours before, and judging from the delicious scents coming from the building, was finishing up dinner.

Karen tried her best to ignore the tempting smells that assaulted her sensitive nose as she carried Moira back to the house, setting her down in front of the porch steps. The girl hopped off of Karen's back, then surprised the equine by turning around and hugging her large body. She could only stare as the young redhead skipped up the steps and into the house, unsure of how to feel about this situation.

She sat in front of the house and gazed thoughtfully into the distance, the fading light and swarming bugs doing nothing to interrupt her musings. As far as situations to be a horse in, this definitely wasn't the worst of them. In fact, she felt oddly loved here, both by Clancy and Moira. How strange for her to be feeling that, it had only been a single day.

Distressed whinnies were what managed to catch Karen's attention, her ears perking up as she stood and began to follow the sounds. She discovered the source: Clyde was running about in the field, his mane and tail flowing, his eyes wide and wild. She watched him with a confused look on her equine face, unsure of how to react.

It wasn't until a knife embedded itself in the fencepost next to her did she finally figure out what to do. She spun toward the treeline and was meant with the gray-green skinned threat from a few days ago: the orcs had finally found her. Brandishing sharp, dangerously-shaped weapons, they were running toward the farm with their hodgepodge armour clinking and clanging.

Oh shit, no, not here! Not now! She swung her head from side-to-side, unsure of what to do but knowing that she had to do something. Her thoughts went to leading them away from the farm, but as she decided on this as her course of action, movement from the house caught her eye.

Moira and Clancy had come out to investigate what the commotion was, and had swiftly made themselves prime targets of the incoming orcs. Their charge veered to avoid the equine Karen and instead angled toward the innocent farmer and his daughter. Karen whinnied out a noise that sounded very close to a: “NO!”

Her hooves dug furrows into the ground as she took off at a charge, her head hung low as she aimed herself at the group of orcs. They didn't see her coming until the last moment, only one of the three attackers able to roll out of the way of the large beast barreling at them.

A pair of loud whumps awarded Karen, the two orcs she hit knocked off of their feet and into the bushes. They both laid there, dazed for the moment as to what had hit them. The third orc managed to get back to his feet, and as he affixed the equine with his muted gold eyes, they both seemed to recognize each other from days ago.

He drew his sword and began to approach Karen cautiously, not wanting to rush her until his mates had picked themselves up. The rustling from the bushes behind her alerted Karen that the two had collected themselves and were back on their feet.

One of them had lost his sword, the blade having lodged itself into a tree when it had flew out of the orc's hand. This didn't seem to deter the beastman, however, and as the three formed a circle around Karen, she realized that she didn't see a good way out of this.

There was no time to plan; the first of the three jumping at her in an attempt to grab her. Her reaction was by reflex alone, her rear legs shooting out, hooves catching the orc under his chin and breaking both his jaw and his neck in one fell swoop. His body tumbled back into the bushes and laid still.

The second had taken this chance to leap forward as well, his strong arms wrapping around Karen's neck as he attempted to hold her in place. The third grinned, showing jagged tusks as he slowly began to swagger closer, swinging his sword casually. Neither of them seemed affected by the loss of their comrade.

Karen struggled, shaking her head wildly and bucking her legs as the orc barely managed to hang on. The third orc's blade glinted dully in the moonlight, the blade seeming larger and larger as he came closer. Eyes wide in fear, the equine didn't see any way out of this one.

Suddenly, a whinny cut through the night, accompanied by the sound of thudding hoofbeats. Clyde shot out of the shadows and plowed straight into the sword-wielding orc, the both of them tumbling into the side of the barn. The orc holding Karen was momentarily surprised by the sight, and Karen took this chance to go limp and roll onto his body.

She felt his body crush under her own, the wind being knocked out of him and leaving him broken and unconscious beneath her. The victory was short-lived, however, the woman-turned-horse quickly scrambling back to her hooves so that she could check on Clyde.

The horse seemed okay aside from being stunned from where he had crashed into the barn, laying dazed on his side. The orc, however, was recovering and was trying to stand up once more. Karen didn't give him the chance, positioning herself just right and stomping on his head.

A sickening thud, then a second, just to be sure, and the orc threat had been eliminated. She whinnied a curse at them, leaning her head down to nuzzle Clyde's own head. As she did so, her eyes caught on a small pouch dangling from the orc's belt.

Karen's blue eyes went wide as she recognized it: it was her petal pouch! Apparently the orc had recovered it, thinking that it was valuable, and now it was hers again! The problem of untying it from the orc's belt overwhelmed her, and as she tried to paw it off of the belt as gently as she could, Clancy and Moira approached.

“Shit, guys, are ya alright? The both of ya?” Clancy spoke as the pair examined the horses, Moira crouching down next to the stallion, “I ain't never seen a horse fight like that!” Clancy whistled appreciatively, patting Karen's side before watching her struggles.

He looked confused, leaning down to see what was fascinating Karen so. His eyes stopped on the pouch, and after a quick glance up at the horse, he reached down to untie it. Karen grew more excited, pawing the ground, flicking her tail, nickering and snorting repeatedly.

Clancy continued to look confused, but he shrugged his shoulders and opened the pouch to see what was inside. He raised an eyebrow as small blue petals fell onto his open hand, “Flowers? Yer all excited over flowers?”

He looked up at Karen to see that she had her large mouth open and was doing her damnedest to communicate to Clancy that she wanted those flowers in her mouth. The farmer stared at the sight before he shook his head, reaching up to dump the petals onto her tongue, “Yer one weird horse, y'know that?”

Karen didn't care about his statement, her flat teeth eagerly grinding the petals into dust. She sucked it down greedily, whinnying joyously and bucking her legs out in excitement. Realizing how she was acting, she slowly stopped and looked embarrassed.

All three of them were now staring at her, Moira, Clancy, and Clyde. She flushed and let out a whinny, trying to appear nonchalant as she turned to trot back toward the barn. Karen knew that she would sleep great that night, excited for what the morning would bring.

Her prophecy came true: that night's sleep was indeed the best she had in a long time. The soft crackling of changing bones and gurgles of adjusting organs seemed merry to her as they echoed in her ears. It was a bit amusing how differently the sounds affected her depending on the situation.

Clancy was in for a sight when he opened the stall in the morning, pausing in the middle of a zealous morning greeting, “Mornin' you two, ready fer a day a'-...”

He froze in the doorway to the stall, his eyes locked onto Karen. She snoozed away, unaware that the farmer was staring at her changing form. The adventurer was still very equine, but was a third smaller and appeared to have arms ending in fore hooves. The sight of bulges on her chest enough to make the seasoned farmer come to his senses, and blushing, he nudged Karen with a foot.

The grumbling response that rewarded his action sounded like a mix of whinnies and English words, and once more, he found himself paralyzed as he stared down at her. All of this was lost on Karen as she woke up, sitting up in a very non-horselike fashion and stretching out her arms.

She blinked up at him and gave him a smile, the effect eliciting mixed reactions due to her shorter equine snout. She struggled out a greeting and stood up on two legs, still taller than the large farmer. His continuing stare caused her to tilt her head curiously at him and to nicker confusedly.

Then it dawned on her: she wasn't completely human. In fact, she was still mostly horse at this point. She reached up and rubbed a hoof against her large neck, the effect surreal as she smiled awkwardly, “Uhhhh neeeeed tuuh expluhn...” She started, but she shook her head and stopped herself. Explaining things now would be difficult, so she opted for a different tact.

She laid a gentle hoof on Clancy's shoulder, trying her best to look reassuring. Apparently, it worked, the man visibly relaxing and breaking out into a big smile, “I hope ya got an explanation fer this, darlin'. 'Cause I'm gonna need one!”

The barn's door opened and in walked little Moira, hefting the bag of oats and feed once more. She stepped up to Karen's stall and dropped the bag, oats leaking out onto the floor as she stared up at the towering horse-woman. Her wide eyes were even wider, the emerald orbs full of wonder and curiosity, “Lady! You're on two legs!”

Karen whinnied out a fit of laughter, nodding her head as she reached down to pat the young girl's head. It seemed that the child had an advantage over her father: the ability to adjust to the unexpected and weird almost instantly. It only took her a minute to lean down and scoop up the feed bag, offering it up to the adventurer, “Are you still hungry, Lady?”

Karen thought about it for a moment, considering it before leaning down to dip her face into the bag. She had to push in further due to her shorter snout, but she was successful in getting the food. She didn't seem to notice Clyde staring at her in a confused fashion through the bars separating their stalls.

Clancy clapped his large hands together, the loud noise startling both stallion and soon-to-be ex-horse, “A'right, we got work ta do! Gotta clean up that mess ya made savin' our skins 'fore ya get any smaller.”

And so that day was spent cleaning up the bodies of the orc raiders, Karen using her muscular form to tug a body away. Clyde was utilized to pull the other two, the both of them dragging the corpses to a wide clearing of gravel. It seemed that Clancy had put this here for one simple use: burning things.

The bodies reeked as they burned, the smell clashing with the way the flames seemed to crackle merrily. The morbid moment was almost made charming with how pretty the fire turned out. Moira even suggested marshmallows, Clancy agreeing with her before they both saw Karen shaking her head. They both gave the adventurer a pair of twin sheepish smiles.

On the next day, Karen was even further along back to human. She had her human face back, along with her hands and her figure. Clancy had produced a simple outfit that fit her well enough, close-lipped about where it had come from. She took a moment to study herself: left with hooves instead of feet, a pair of horse ears and black fingernails, she was well on her way to being human once more.

As they set to cleaning up the bloodstains and collecting the weaponry, Karen was able to explain her curse to the farmers. They listened with much interest, Moira interrupting frequently with curious questions.

“Gotta tell ya, Karen, I ain't much a fan o' magic,” Clancy laughed as the trio settled inside the house, taking seats at a quaint dinner table, “It always leads ta... complications...”

Karen bobbed her head in agreement, hungrily chewing a piece of the venison that Clancy had prepared and served. The meat was delicious and flavorful in her mouth, especially after nights of rations and, more recently, oats. She savored every bite.

“So, can I be a horsie, too? I'd be able to do so much more for daddy!” Moira piped up, squirming excitedly in the way that only children could. She stilled and put a piece of food in her mouth at the stare her father gave her, deciding against pursing the quest to become a horse.

Karen only laughed, flicking one of her still-equine ears, “You could, but I wouldn't recommend it. It's really inconvenient.” The adults laughed as Moira blinked at them, missing what was funny.

After the meal, the adventurer helped to clean up. Her feet had returned before the sun had set, her fingernails once more properly coloured. The equine ears remained stubbornly in place, however. She didn't let it bother her too much, actually enjoying the increased hearing they granted her.

As she scrubbed dishes, she could hear Clancy and Moira discussing in the other room. Moira appeared to be asking if they could keep Karen around, while her father was patiently explaining to her that the adventurer had her own life and her own duties to go back to.

“But daddy! We can make the stable into her bedroom! Clyde likes her so much and she's so helpful...” Moira was saying, her young voice carrying easily.

“Now honey, she is nice, but she can't be stayin' around jus' 'cause we like her. If'n you ask nicely, maybe she'll come back ta visit. Did ya think ta ask her, sweetie?” Clancy's voice answered, in a surprisingly calm inside tone.

A silence followed, broken by the patter of young feet on wooden floorboards. Karen turned in time to see Moira burst into the kitchen, huffing and puffing as she stared at the adventurer with her big, green eyes, “Miss Karen, I wanted to ask ya somethin'!”

The ex-horse gave the young girl a big smile, nodding, “Yes, Moira, I'll come and visit you.” Her smile was dwarfed by the one Moira gave her, the girl lunging forward and wrapping her arms around Karen's legs.

She stumbled, having to hold onto the kitchen counter to keep herself from falling. Clancy's laughter sounded from the doorway, the man leaning against the door frame and grinning at the scene in front of him. He gave the adventurer a wink, “Yes ma'am, yer always welcome here!”

Later that night, after the moon was high in the sky and bugs chirped insistently, Karen was resting on a bale of hay in the barn. Clyde snorted as he snored in his stall, the big beast slumbering deeply. Clancy had offered her a room in the house, but Karen had instead opted for the barn.

For some odd reason, she found it oddly comforting at the moment. As she rested, now dressed in her back-up clothes from her pack, she looked up at the ceiling, lost in thought. In the morning she would head out, back to the town of Camarillo to listen for more rumours. But for now, she was happy to rest and enjoy the peaceful setting she found herself in.

It had been an interesting week, being put to work as a farm horse, but she would be glad to get back to her normal routine of tavern hopping until she found a promising lead. The rural feel of the homestead was lovely, sure, but a bit too slow for the adventurous gal. She was grateful to had made a couple of friends, however, and was determined to keep her promise of returning for visits. Hopefully on two legs instead of four next time.

A soft chuckle escaped her as she slowly closed her eyes. She began to let her mind drift, the worries and frets floating away as she settled in to sleep. When the morning came, she would say her farewells and head out, but for now, here in this barn, she would sleep peacefully. Clyde seemed to agree with her statements as he let out a drowsy nicker.


Another commission for the very friendly  PaulRevere1991!
This is his character Karen starring in an incident that occurs as she tries to get more of her precious flower that allows her to keep human form. This ones her to land she never thought she would tread... farmland!

Karen belongs to  PaulRevere1991.
Story written by Naru (Me!)