He saw his clothes neatly folded at the foot of the bed, and he sat down again and picked up his trousers. He saw that they'd been modified, with a small hole in the back and a slit leading to it, with a pair of buttons. Dolanna had already made clothing for him to take his tail into account. He sat down and carefully put his leg inside, then curled his toes to keep the claws from snagging. He repeated it with the other leg, then stood up and buttoned them in the front. It wasn't easy, because his fingers were so large now, but he somehow managed. The back buttons, however, were another story. Tarrin managed to twist himself in such a way that he could actually see behind himself; Tarrin had never been able to twist like that before, and he realized that his entire back and spine were built differently than his human one had been. He worked for a very long time to get the small buttons through the holes, but the small things eluded even his best attempts. Growling a bit in frustration, he popped out the claws on his hand and pinched the little button between then, then managed to jam it through the slit. He repeated the process with the other button, managing it on the fifth try.

She'd left him a white wool shirt, with laces at the front, and long, wide sleeves. It was much easier to get into that, but the laces were quite beyond him. These large hands had obvious drawbacks. They were very dextrous, but their size made manipulating very small things extremely difficult. He figured that he'd be able to do it with practice, but he didn't much feel like fooling with it.

Dolanna opened the door, holding a tray so filled with food that she had trouble holding it up. She gave him a cursory glance as she entered the room, closing the door with a foot, and set the tray down. Tarrin looked at her. Something was…wrong. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, either. She looked the same as she always had, but somehow, she didn't. As she got closer, he had to look down at her more and more, and then he understood. She was shorter.

That meant that he had to be taller.

He looked up at the ceiling. If this ceiling was the same height as the one in the other room, then he was taller. It was noticably lower than it had been.

"Is it just me, or are you shorter?" he asked her.

"You grew by half a span," she told him simply. "As if you were not tall enough. You are taller than most Ungardt now." She opened the door again and picked something up off the floor, and then came back in. They were books. "How does it feel?"

"Strange," he said, looking down at himself. "But in a way, it doesn't. It's like it's always been like this."

"Those are your instincts," she told him. "Do not ignore them, Tarrin. They may try to guide your actions, but they also will give you important information. You must learn to listen to them without letting them control you. It is a balance you must strike within yourself, a balance between man and animal, with the man guiding."

He nodded. There was no way he could ignore something that just came to him unbidden. But, as she said, he couldn't let it control what he did.

"Faalken will be along in a while," she told him. "He told me that he thought you would not mind company, so he is bringing a stones board."

"I think he's right," he said. "I won't mind someone to talk to at all."

"Go ahead and eat, and Faalken should be along," she said. "He is going to the city market to buy something, and will come visit you when he returns. That should give you time to eat in peace."

"Alright." He reached out and took Dolanna's hand gently, feeling how warm her skin was, and how fragile that she seemed to be. "Dolanna, I want to thank you," he said. "I know you couldn't have stopped it, but at least you've given me a chance. Thank you."

"Oh, dear one," she sighed, giving him a smile, "it is I who should thank you. I cannot help feeling responsible for this. And I want you to know, that if you never need anything, anything at all, I will always be about to help you. It is the least I can do for you after bringing you here, where this could happen."

"Would, would you send a letter to my parents?" he asked. "They need to know about this."

"I already have," she told him. "They should have it by now. I made sure to tell them not to come, Tarrin. I felt that you would need time to grow accustomed to it before you could face them."

"Thank you," he said, because she was right. If he saw his mother right now, looking like he did, and she rejected him, it would destroy him. Better to face it himself than run the risk of that.

"I will return after I have rested, bathed, and eaten," she told him. "Then we will talk of what is to come."

"Eating is a good idea," Tarrin said, the wonderfully sharp smells of the tray drawing his attention to it.

"Enjoy," she told him, leaving.

Tarrin never knew food could taste that way. Everything seemed fifty times what it had been before, and he found that the tastes of some foods had changed somewhat. Mutton had always been bland to him, but now it had a texture and a subtle flavor that he enjoyed immensely. The tray was filled with dishes of meat, and nothing else, with a mug of plain water. There was mutton, pork, beef, venison, rabbit, and even goose and chicken. He found that they all had tastes related to their scents, so much so that the taste of it was the base of the scent it gave off. He figured that if he didn't like the smell of something, odds were that he wouldn't like the taste of it either. He sampled each of them, testing the new taste of it and comparing it to what he remembered, then he attacked the entire tray and devoured it. When he was done, he marvelled that he was capable of eating so much. But he was wonderfully full, and the contentment of that simple condition amazed him. No doubt that it stemmed from the instincts that were inside his mind now.

It was all so strange. By all rights, he should be having a complete panic attack. But he was not. It was as if the instincts in his mind had forced him to accept the change that had been wrought on him. Yes, he was upset, and very frightened about what had happened to him, but even now it felt…right. Just as Dolanna said, he felt as if this was the way that he was supposed to be, that he had been incomplete before this. It was probably the instincts doing it to him…and in a way, he was glad of that. At least this feeling of normalcy was somewhat comforting.

He stood at the window, looking down into the courtyard, wondering if he'd have the courage to walk across it. It was painfully obvious that he didn't belong in the human world anymore. In a place like Aldreth, things were different. The proximity to the Frontier made the villagers receptive to non-humans. But this wasn't Aldreth. This was Torrian, where non-humans walking down the street were quite an event. They would either ignore him, stare at him, or run from him. There were non-humans in port cities, the sea-faring animal people, the Wikuni, but Torrian was far from the sea. Maybe in Suld, where there were many Wikuni, he would be able to walk down the street. But here, he wasn't so sure.

The door opened. Tarrin looked over his shoulder, and saw Faalken coming into the room. Faalken's rough, outdoor-like scent touched Tarrin's nose, and he filed it away in his mind for future reference. Faalken had a stones board in his hands, as well as a couple of mugs and a leather pouch.

"You look, impressive," Faalken told him.

Tarrin looked down at his hand, flexing out the claws and watching in mused wonder. "Something like that," he replied quietly. "I'm getting used to it, though."

"How does it feel?"

"I can't describe it, Faalken. There are sounds and smells and sights I see and hear and smell, that I just can't describe. You have milk and ale in those mugs," he told him. "I think you were either in a rush or working out. You've been sweating, and your heart's still a bit fast. And you were eating a meat pie."