07-24-2016, 02:33 AM
Bones pop, crunch and contort; his face is a mask of pain. They never told him how much the shifting could hurt but it doesn’t stop him - - he loves his other shape too much to not spend most of his time in it.
His muzzle has thinned out and grown more toothy, especially when he grins which is often in this shape. Humor becomes him as hooves shift to paws and they scrabble at the soft dirt with ease, as he moves off in a lope. His ears have grown longer, his senses keener and more alert as he listens to the forest around him. Frankly, he prefers hills, tall grasses even, but lopes easily through the trees as if on a mission - he is not, he filled his belly the last time he shifted shape (can still taste the rabbit on his lips, licking the memory of blood and guts from the corners of his grinning mouth) and has managed to make his shapes and their needs coincide as best as he can - as a horse, he eats grass; as a coyote, he eats whatever small prey he can bring down or leftover carrion from another’s kill.
The coyote is oblivious to the cold that sings it way down between the trees in small flurries of snow and wind; his pelt is thick and fulvous and affords him enough camouflage within the shadows that he slips in and out of. His long ears detect the noise of another and it sounds equine in nature, the thud of hoof against needle-quieted soil and he slinks furtively after the horse, curious - only curious. His amber eyes pick out the sunset-orange and he is drawn to the anomaly of color that blazes through the forest only to darken to shadow-touched snow; she (her scent gives her away as much as her burgeoning shape does) is a color-changer like he is a shape-changer and his curiosity mounts as he continues to stalk her until she pauses beneath a large oak tree.
Woodrow emerges from the forest and circles round the oak and the blue-gray mare before settling down before her in his coyote-shape. He sits back on his haunches and slants his head to one side, eyes amber and sly, his grin toothsome and mischievous. “Hello,” he says in a tone that has a low frequency whine to it as if he still hasn’t quite mastered speech in this shape.
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