What it does do is... difficult to describe. It feels like being unwoven, though not destructively - perhaps unspooled is a better term for that part. Taken from one configuration to another, one that is narrower and can fit through gaps she otherwise couldn't. And then threaded through a needle and woven back into her shape, as though nothing had happened, except that instead of her cunning little hiding-place she's in a forest glade, where a squirrel wearing a green tunic is bleeding to death at her feet while a much smaller squirrel in a white tunic cries for help.

A... squirrel is crying for help. In language that she understands. That is a thing that is happening. Possibly someone else has been shapeshifted, and the second item transported her to them??? This is the only thing that makes sense. It doesn't make a lot of sense, but it makes some sense.

??? She doesn't really understand what is happening, but there's no harm to healing a random animal, and if the impossible is true once more, and a person dies in front of her, well. That's intolerable.

So she does the sensible thing and steps forward to touch the squirrel with her paw, and sees if her healing abilities work on squirrel, while she is also a fox.

Her healing abilities work just as they should! The squirrel's wounds close over, and while she can't check its skin for coloration, its breathing sounds steadier already.

The smaller squirrel transitions from weeping to clinging desperately to her front leg. "Thank you thank you thank you - is he gonna be okay - will his fur grow back - it doesn't matter if his fur grows back -"

"Um," she... says, because she hadn't actually tried speaking in language before, but seeing a squirrel use language gets her to make the attempt. It seems to be working fine?? "Yes to the fur growing back, probably to being okay. There are some risks of infection depending on what caused the injury and how long it's been left, it hadn't been left like this for a while?"

"No! Well - some - I hid until they were gone, and then I was quiet until they were really definitely gone, and - and, the injury was caused by swords? Injuries."

Squirrelkid seems to be focusing very intently on answering questions in a helpful and accurate manner. (No-longer-bleeding squirrel hasn't woken up yet but seems to be closer to sleeping than dead.)

"That should be fine," she assures, relying on professionalism in the face of such absurdity. She probably should have made sure the injuries were clean before healing, in retrospect the healing was just a tad too off the cuff and flinch responsey for her liking, but she's not going to tell this very overwhelmed child that. ...This. This very overwhelmed squirrel child. ????

Back to professionalism. And self interest. Professionalism and self interest. "You did well to avoid being hurt yourself. Um. I'm afraid I have no idea where we are, though, are we in likely danger of, anything else if we stay...?"

"Papa said when he saw the tracks that he never saw vermin this far into the woods but then there were vermin so I dunno if that means there's more or if it means - means like how lightning can't hit the same tree again? But. If there are more then I'd rather be home and if there aren't more I'd still rather be home."

Okay. Very reasonable desire, that.

... She is smaller than an ordinary fox, and the squirrels are larger than ordinary squirrels, but she is nonetheless a fox and these are squirrels, and so:

"I can likely carry him back. If you know which way your home is?"

Squirrelkid looks very determined. "I can get us home. Papa was giving me tracking lessons before - anyway, I can get us home."

"Okay. Then please lead the way," she says, and then sees if she can in fact... carry a squirrel. Probably, yes? While... also walking on her hind legs. Because. What is her life right now. She doesn't understand.

Papa Squirrel is a little more than half her size. She can carry him as easily as she could have carried a toddler, pre-transformation.

Squirrelkid boldly leads the way. This appears to be the thing they're focusing on, now, in their ambition to Be Helpful.

This is just her life now, yep. She. She will sure be carrying this squirrel while following this other squirrel while. She is a fox. With thumbs.

Before they make it all the way home, Papa Squirrel begins to stir. Not much, but he's twitching in her arms and scrunching his face, in that way that people who are waking up with a bad hangover sometimes do.

Oh. Uh. Well, the thing she should be in this situation is reassuring, so:

"He's waking up. Hey, it's okay, we're taking you home. You'll be safe soon."

"Safe..." he rasps. "Chippit? Safe?"

Chippit (apparently) nods rapidly, then remembers their dad has his eyes closed. "Yeah!!!! I'm, I'm getting us home."

"Good. Good girl."

He lapses back into unconsciousness.

This is a pretty expected, really. As far as she can tell, her healing does replenish lost blood past a certain threshold, but that threshold is lower than what people are usually accustomed to. She'll shove more healing at him if he looks like he's crashing from blood loss, but a certain level of wooziness with injuries this bad is normal.

"It'll be okay," she assures him and, apparently, Chippit. (What a very squirrel appropriate name. Not that she thought about what squirrels would name themselves, or anything, but now that it's in front of her, it sure does seem to fit. She thinks.)

Chippit nods firmly and leads her through some more subtle paths.

They reach a tree. "This one's ours!" Chippit says. "Um. ...you can't climb while carrying Papa, can you."

Oh. Of course they... live in a tree. They're squirrels. Why didn't she realize that.

"... No. Not without some kind of sling, or something."

Chippit bites her lip.

"...can I get Mama. She might have an idea and also I need hugs."

"Yes, of course, please go get your mother," she says, and then she gently sets the papa squirrel down against the tree.

Chippit darts up into the branches.

She's gone for a few minutes. Then a larger squirrel comes tearing down the trunk. She's wearing an apron, dusted with sandy-brown flour, and she immediately kneels by the unconscious squirrel and presses her ear to his chest.

Then she sees Astea, and freezes for a moment, looking as if she might scream.

"You," she starts, once she starts breathing again. "Are you - the - the friend. Chippit said a friend helped her carry Rekki back here. Are you. The friend."

Oh. Of course the squirrel has feelings about a fox showing up. Of course that’s what happened. Why wouldn’t her deranged fever dream make sense like that?

She is going to just lean on her professionalism like it’s the only thing that’s real in this insane world, because it probably is.

“Yes, ma’am. I’ve healed his injuries, but he lost a lot of blood before I got to him. When he wakes up, he’ll need,” no, don’t suggest meat to a squirrel. Squirrels probably can’t eat meat. What’s another source of protein? Wait, no, don’t suggest nuts, either, that also might be presumptuous! Fuck it, time to be vague! “protein especially, but everything he can eat, even if he doesn’t have an appetite. Also bed rest, he should avoid doing anything very strenuous for the next week.”

The squirrelmarm nods faintly.

Chippit makes her way down the tree, a little bit more carefully and also using shorter legs. "What's protein? We've got nuts and berries stocked away, but should we go to the Abbey and get some cheese, or fish, or - herbs - or I don't know what other kinds of food there are, really, maybe beer?"

"No large quantities of beer for a while," asserts the fox, firmly. "Nuts and berries would be okay, but I think the variety would be better for him. Fish and cheese would be good." How the fuck does an animal world acquire cheese. Do... do they have cows??? Do the cows milk themselves and then make the cheese??? She has so many questions. Not that she'll ask any of them, but she has them. ... Okay, one. She gets to ask one. "The Abbey?"

That seems like the sort of... shelter thing... that she could maybe try to get more of a handle of whatever the hell her life has become.

"The Abbey's where lots of goodbeasts live all together," Chippit says. "It's made of big red stones, and there's a great wall around it so the vermin can't get in, and they grow lots of food there. And they've got a pond, for fish. We usually don't eat much fish but Mama says it's good for us sometimes."

Mama shakes her head, dispelling her vague expression. "Yes... yes, fish is good. It's a strong food. We should really go to the Abbey for a few weeks, anyway. With rats this deep in Mossflower, and with Rekki practically -" she swallows. "Like this."

"Do you want to come with us, Miss Fox?" Chippit asks seriously.

Her mother twitches. "Chippit."

"Oh!" Chippit looks terribly embarrassed. "I'm very sorry, Missus Fox. What's your name?"

This is visibly not what her mother was distressed about.

She absolutely notices, but she's going to be polite and pretend it was.

"It's all right. I'm Aysilvetea," she says, with a somewhat prim curtsy. "If... I'd be welcome. I'm afraid I'm rather lost, at the moment."

"I'm Chippit," Chippit says. "And Daddy is Rekkivikki, and Mama is Tirikkiti."

Tirikkiti twitches again. "I. Am not sure it'd be appropriate. For you to come to the Abbey with us."

"Mama!" Chippit gasps. "She saved Papa's life, and she -"

"Not because I think she's - not a good sort," Tirikkiti clarifies sharply. "But - they're not set up right, for beasts like foxes. They only catch so much fish, and everything's built to a mouse's height -"

"That's not true," Chippit squeaks indignantly. "There's the badgermother! Aysilvetea isn't bigger than a badger!"

"Chippit!" Tirikkiti says sternly. "Don't talk back!"

"And how are we going to get Papa all the way to the Abbey, huh?" Chippit shouts. "Can you carry him?"

There's an awkward pause. Tirikkiti seems to be trying to wrestle with this question while also not looking like she's doing that.

"I could carry him there, and then they could perhaps direct me somewhere that I might be more welcome?" she offers. She's a little used to this kind of questioning of her skills and intentions and abilities, but usually it's on account of her age and her sex. It's kind of novel to be discriminated against because... she's a fox. Not even that she's some kind of animal surrounded by humans, but that she's the wrong kind of animal, in a world of animals.

"If they don't welcome you I'll make them!" Chippit fumes.

"Chippit, stop that," Tirikkit snaps. She turns back to Astea, schooling her expression. "I think that would be fine," she says carefully. "Thank you very much."

Astea is terribly charmed by Chippit, and Chippit gets a smile.

"You're welcome," she says. "Do you need time to pack things? I can likely carry more than just your," do squirrels get married?? is that presumptuous??? "partner."

Her expression becomes so strictly schooled that it threatens to graduate into a rictus at any moment. "No, thank you. I can pack very lightly."

She scampers up the trunk to do so.

Well, okay then. She feels like that probably struck some kind of fox stereotype nerve. Of some kind. Or possibly a squirrel stereotype nerve? It's really hard to tell, when one is in a nonsensical animal world where all of the animals that usually eat each other instead walk about on their hind legs, talking to each other in the same language and having racial tensions.

Anyway, she'll sit down here on the ground and wait, then.

Chippit will fume beside her.

"It's not fair," she growls. Or, as close to a growl as a preadolescent squirrel can get. Which isn't that close.

"Few things in life are, I'm afraid. We can but do our best to make things better, and hope it evens out eventually," she shrugs. It is probably condescending to pat her on the head, but she's very tempted.

She struggles for words.

"But - she's punishing you. For being good even though you're a fox. Why would any fox try to be good if that's what you get for it?""

"Well, speaking for myself? Spite. Pure, undiluted, juvenile spite. It's fun to disprove people who think the worst of you." She winks, then flicks her tail. ... It's surprisingly nice to be able to have that sort of tail based body language. "But yes, the incentive structure is all wrong."

Chippit nods slowly. "I think you're a very strange fox. But I think I might understand."

"I will not deny being strange," she agrees, brightly. "But that's not a bad thing, now is it?"

Vigorous headshake. "No, it's good! Most foxes are - mean, I think, and don't heal people, and don't choose to be nice just because it'll annoy people."