It had only been eight years since I was Turned into a Wereanimal, however I liked to think that I had this "shifting" thing pretty much under control. For the last 5 years I could shift without the aid of the moon, and within the last 2 years I taught myself to shift and be able to stay within my animal form for the better portion of the day. In fact, it was almost a rare occurrence to see me in my human form. That is, unless I felt like wandering about, viewing and being able to talk to those around me. The only downfall of my chosen solitude is, it has created somewhat of a social phobia in me. I didn't feel comfortable around others unless they were of my species.

As per usual, I sat upon the branches of the forest, beady eyes scanning the scene. There didn't seem to be much happening on this particular eve. A mouse scurried in the nearby distance causing my stomach to turn in hunger, but I persevered. My eyes caught sight of a gazebo in the nearby park and I decided to fly over to it. Gracefully, I spread out my wings and took flight. The space between my tree and the structure closed quickly, only needing a few pumps from my wings. I landed upon the roof, my talons scraping against the surface. Perhaps it wasn't exactly the best place for a falcon to sit upon.

Unable to get a grip, I took to the skies again, looking around for that particular tree I used to stash an extra kilt when I was out on my adventures. It was probably dirty by now, as I hid it in the hole of a tree trunk, but that was beyond me now. I was a were, and dirty was something that was synonymous with my species. Keen eyesight found the tree and I flew over to it. For ease during my shift, I landed upon the dirt and leaves of the forest floor and began my shift. It was long and painful. My body still detested shifting, even though I was so used to doing it. It was especially painful the longer I stayed in my animal form. I was beginning to think it resented my flesh over feathers.

When the shift was over, I lay in the dirt, heavily breathing, shaking, and covered in sweat, completely stark naked. The immodesty of the change was something I don't think I would ever get used to. While it was normal for many weres to just walk about in the nude, or with very little clothing, I just couldn't handle it. It made me embarrassed and shy. If my face hadn't already been red from exhaustion, there would be no doubt in my mind that I would be red faced from embarrassment.

When the strength returned to me, I pushed my body up off the ground, brushing off the dirt and debris that clung to my skin. I tested the strength of my legs, finding they were more than prepared to get my kilt out of the tree. I stood up slowly, reached into the hole and pulled out the gray and black fabric. I had dozens of these, as I don't think I've ever worn pants in my life. Quickly I wrapped the fabric around my waist, covering myself. I wasn't dressed as dapper as I would have preferred, but post-change rarely warranted a black-tie dress-code. I reached back into the tree and realized that the only shirt I had left was a black vest (tank if you will). I threw it over my shoulders and lazily headed back to the gazebo.

It felt like it took forever to clear the space between my hidey-hole and that structure. Once I finally did, I sat down carefully and stretched out my legs. I was exhausted. Why had I even changed in the first place? Sure, there was something nice about this gazebo, but not enough to really want to endure that sadistic behaviour. Something sparkled just outside the structure, catching my eye. It was a small bird bath, reflecting the sunset in its pool. Curiously, I wandered over to it. It had been so long since I saw my sister. I wanted to know what she was up to these days. After I was turned into a were, she refused to speak to me. Being only a little over a year younger than me, we were so close growing up. That event ruined everything I had taken for granted.

I ran my fingers through the surface, the water rippling gently before settling perfectly. My eyes bore down into the reflective surface, changing slowly from the reflection of sky, stone, and my face, into another scene entirely. There was a small white house, one not unlike the house I grew up in, yet it wasn't the same. There were two cars in the driveway. The scene panned toward the door, opening to reveal my sister. The air was punched out of my lungs and I had to grip onto the edges of the bath in order to keep my knees from buckling and taking me down into the grass.

A man who looked familiar, yet I couldn't remember his name, came over and kissed her on the mouth. I felt my protective instincts flair up. Her hand came up and I saw a sparkling diamond on her finger. Water rushed to my eyes, but I blinked them away so the scene could continue to play. The man murmured something, but because I cannot hear these visions, I had no idea what he said. My sister laughed and turned. The man got down before her and rubbed her swollen belly. The two of them laughed. A tear fell, splashing into the water and breaking the scene.

It looked like she was capable of moving on quite well, whereas I had become the recluse I swore I'd never be. What a disastrous fate this turned out to be. I wondered if she ever thought of me.