One would think that as soon as they shifted, any and all conversation would be cut short. Given their specific abilities, however, and recalling (he thought, anyway) having talked to Charlotte via mindspeak before, Lancaster realised that their conversation wouldn’t have to stop where their humanoid bodies did.
As Charlotte began to undress, Lancaster turned his back and did the same. The clothes were piled into the car, onto the seat he’d just occupied. He made sure to close the door before he initiated the shift; he could only imagine closing it by shoving at it with his paws, and he didn’t think Charlotte would appreciate it if he scratched the paintwork. Lancaster wasn’t much of a car guy, himself. They never did appeal much. He might even have been somewhat of an environmentalist; not enough to become a lobbyist or a hippy, but enough that he preferred walking or biking anywhere he needed to go.
Besides which, owning a car didn’t really fit with the backpacker lifestyle, and it had never occurred to him that he should get one, since moving to Harper Rock. He had a motorcycle sitting in a garage somewhere, but even that he barely used.
There was a time when he’d first discovered his ability to shift that he’d spent every night as a dingo; he and Pi had romped through the wilderness all the time together. As such, even now when he had been out of practice for so long, when he shifted it was with ease. He had only to take several steps before he was all fours, the vibrant red of the dingo’s fur a blur as its body shook violently, ears clacking against skin and bushy tail whipping back and forth behind him. The new skin settled, tongue lolling happily from the dog’s mouth.
Dingos could either look like small household dogs, or they could look large, more akin to red wolves. Lancaster was
the latter. Although he had never seen himself as a dingo, he felt powerful within its lithe body. He felt more confident in this body than he did in his own. Why did he not do this more often?
For a few seconds, he stopped to stare at the Hyena Charlotte had become. His head bowed, nose twitching as it searched out her scent. It was strange, he thought, to be keeping company with a hyena. Strange, to be a dingo. This whole scenario was something out of a fantasy novel and a lot of the time, Lancaster still struggled to come to terms with it. Rather than dwell too long on how strange it was, however, Lancaster wasted no time in leaping past Charlotte and crashing into the undergrowth.
If there were animals nearby who didn’t know of their presence, they certainly would now.
Lancaster may look like a large, red wolf, but after so long without having used this body, he instead acted like a boisterous puppy.
Perhaps, given a good ten minutes, he might soon calm down enough to actually hunt.