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[...]

Rem shook his head thinking about what led him here, sitting in the cold, wet dew in the middle of an inversion when he should by all measures be sitting in a warm, dry tavern with a fresh mug of coffee. He’d been warning the Inn that the Mercy needed to be put into dock for maintenance as the SkyDrive had been acting up lately, but the captain kept putting it off. They were honestly lucky to have crashed as gently as they did. Now the Drive was broken, bits of the hull needed patching, and at least three sails needed replaced, so he couldn’t even bring someone with him to share the walk. And then of course this inversion business threw a giant wrench into the rest of the day’s plans. He wasn’t even sure how he was going to get back to the road with his erratic path through the woods, and now his hands were even *colder* for some reason and his nose itched.

He brought his hand up to scratch his nose, leaving a bit of black dirt on its end. He huffed again and tried to knock it off with a burst of air from his mouth, but the dirt seemed to grow. That was weird. Brushing it again with his fingertip, he noticed that it felt weirdly coarse against his skin. It was only when he glanced at his palm did he realize his mistake. Thick pads had begun to form on the bottoms of his fingers and palm while dark-brown hair… no, fur, sprung up around it. He stared at it in awe before he felt a soft, cold flake fall onto the small of his neck, forcing a chill to run up his back. Rem scurried to his feet, moving quickly away from the patch of roving snow that had crept up behind him.

“No no no nonononono this can’t-- this can’t-- I just wanted a rest! I was careful!”

Looking at his arm, he watched his fingernails effortlessly morph into claws as the fur filled in thick...

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