Leaning back in his hammock, Chris yawned. It had been a pretty decent week all things considered. In the last month since his second change, he’d created a home for himself, (it wasn’t until now how much he realized he missed his thumbs) found a steady patch of food for his consumption, and gathered pieces for his clothing, which still contained his wallet and cell phone. This morning he collected berries and other fruits, he found that since he was “gifted” with hooves and a solely vegetarian stomach, he was especially fond of apples. Though he steered clear of that first tree near the pavilion and the field, occasionally he’d have the morbid curiosity of trying one more.
He refrained from doing that, as he no longer knew the way back, the new area he’d stumbled in on and made his home seemed isolated form the rest of the forest, he’d gotten turned around so many times, he’d stayed relatively in a single spot. After his breakfast, he decided to walk around, and get some exorcise before trying again to find his way out. Passing all the familiar landmarks and plants that he’d designated as part of his own, he found dead ends in nearly every direction. As Chris resigned to return home, he felt a quiver in his stomach.

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Here he goes again. This not my best work, these following five, the rush to have them all done, and generally being tired of the sequence as it entered month three were enough to make me careless of how I drew them.
Chris is © to me.