She spends a while on the ground, panting but not otherwise moving, paying attention to her senses, smell and hearing most of all, ready to bolt at the first sign of danger. She remembers... little. Very little. Even the fight that just happened, and the flight, and the tearing herself open to get rid of that, of that, of that thing, she doesn't remember. It's a blur. It's flashes of images and feelings but most of all of sounds and smells, sounds and smells, sounds and smells.

Her eyes now are—different. She can see a new colour, in the foliage, the leaves, and now that she pays attention it's more than one, it's so many new colours, so many of them everywhere, she can't, she doesn't have names for them but they are—but the shadows are so much darker. She can see less, she's having to hold herself still to not move her head from side to side in a panic, certain that some unseen enemy is about to flank her even though she is, still, lying on the ground. She'd usually have been able to see more, a lot more, and now she can't and it's stifling. But for a blessing, what she can see is—better? Sharper? No, not sharper. Deeper. Deeper, yes, that's a good description of it, she can see a lot deeper. It's vexing and confusing.

And she can't hear or smell anything. Anything. She has warring instincts, because if she can't see and can't hear and can't smell, then—but she shouldn't move. If she moves she's in danger. She's still healing, if nothing else, but if she moves then something might see her. She won't. She can't move. She has to wait.

She's terrified and so, so alone.

The place she picked for her convalescence was a good one, at least. Out of the way, defensible. There's a cliff behind her and ahead is a thicket of thorny bushes. Anything that could come for her would at least be a bit slowed down. ... The not-prey that hunted might have a better time than most. He had fire, too, along with his horrific not-claw. It could maybe burn a way through to her. But... that would be very noticeable. Even to her dulled senses.

Slowly, she does heal. It has none of the speed she's accustomed to, and even after it's knit itself back together, she feels weak from bloodloss and lingering exhaustion, but it closes. Her usual strength remains further away, however. She is still small and soft and weak. Deaf and nose-blind, in her little sanctum of at least temporary sanctuary.

What would she like to do?

She would like to...

...eat. She's hungry, the blood loss hit her hard and she's feeling weak. Except she's not sure that's not just this new form she's been cursed with, this, this—

...it's not new. Old. She's been like this before, she was like this when—when? She doesn't know. She sits up and looks down at her body. Her fur is gone and her claws are gone and her teats are a lot bigger and her ears are a lot smaller and her legs and feet are shaped differently and she's...

...human. That's the word for what she is. Human. Except she's not thinking in words, just concepts, and she has a concept, a memory, for what she is, now. Human.

And what was she before? Wolf?

Not quite.

But she needs to eat. Claws or no, teeth or no, even while small and fragile and weak. She needs to find food.

Food...

Well, it's not the delicious taste of prey-flesh, but... there are other creatures in these woods. Smaller ones, stupider ones, weaker ones. Deer, rabbits, various types of birds. Usually they wouldn't be particularly filling or worth the trouble, but in her current state trying a proper hunt might be a bad idea. And anyway, trying to hunt as a human would be a novel challenge.

Yeah, she thinks she's going to go do that. Tries to make sure the not-prey with the sharp cold things is not around—

Wait, she's going to bury the sharp things because she does not want to ever run even a slight chance of ever touching them again. 

That done, she tries to pay attention to her greatly diminished senses and, not sensing any danger, goes on the hunt. What teeny tiny tasteless game is she going to find, she wonders?

Hmmmm... rabbits, of course, but most of those are in their burrows. Squirrels, but those are up in their trees. That snuffling over there.... boar, perhaps? That might be too risky as she is now, but it's an option. And further out, in the other direction, there's the (faint, compared to what she's used to) scent of a deer on the wind. A safer option, but also more cautious and likely to run.

But if its scent is coming from upwind that means that she is downwind from it, and if she can be quiet enough (can she? this form is so, so clumsy) she may be able to not alert her prey to her presence.

She goes in that direction.

She does the best she can with what she has, but she's not what she was. She almost gets into a decent ambushing range, but then the wind changes and the deer makes a run for it.

She tries to growl in frustration and the pathetic sound that comes out of her throat almost makes her want to cry which is even more pathetic so she ignores it.

She's so slow. And it's not just the hunger it's this form it's these feet and these legs and these arms, her arms are so weak and wimpy and she actually cut her hand on something and it healed quickly but it still needed healing and and and—

Stop. Focus. It is what it is, feeling sorry for herself and whatever curse she's under that forced her (back?) into this body is not going to feed her.

The problem is that she's thinking too much. Thinking is... good, probably, in general, she guesses, but thinking has never fed her. What's fed her is hunting so she needs to hunt. Not think about hunting, not trying to hunt. Just hunt.

From the top: what is there to eat?

Rabbits, again. Squirrels, again, and other various assorted rodents. Sparrows and other types of birds. None of those would make much of a meal, but it'd be better than nothing. She could probably track down that boar she'd heard earlier, too, though it's out of range for now. There's a rustling in the underbrush that sounds like it could be some kind of badger. As for smells...

... well, there is a familiar and delicious scent of prey, on one of their trails of dirt, but if she couldn't catch a deer then she probably couldn't manage a proper hunt.

Nghhh it's so tempting—

...but tempting is what got her into this mess. If she's going to make use of any facts about her current dismal circumstances it's the ability to understand that she was wrong to think that she was the most powerful thing around and nothing could hurt her and so she should not do whatever she wants.

She will not hunt the delicious prey.

And she will not hunt the small game, either. Just like her delicious prey is too crafty for her at least in her current state, so is small game too quick for her. The snorting one (a boar?), then, or another deer if she can smell one.

And she is going to hunt properly. No thinking about it, no planning. She immerses herself in her senses and just moves.

It's easier this way, giving in to her instincts. Like this, she's stronger, and faster, too. Still not as strong as she should be, but it's an obvious improvement. Her weakened form does offer some benefits, as well. She's smaller, more able to slip through the underbrush without making too much noise. And, most interestingly, she can be underestimated. Ordinarily, a boar would flee at the first scent of her. While she's shaped like this... it thinks she's human. Thinks she's actually as weak as she looks. That it can charge, and she'll flee or get herself crushed or skewered.

The creature is mistaken. Her claws were blunted and weak, but if she gives in to the hunt, they can become sharp and strong again. She can leap out of the way of its charge and counterattack just so, and yes, maybe this is a decent hunt after all.

Her prize is a meal, if not a particularly appetizing one. Is she sure she doesn't want to go hunt something more appetizing instead? She's not quite up to full strength yet, but she's definitely closer, now. Maybe giving in a bit more would be enough to regain her fur and fangs, too...

No. It's tempting, but no. In this form the boar is more than enough, actually, even if it tastes even less appetising than it did before. She can fill her stomach with it, try not to dwell on the fact that her fangs and claws are gone again she was so happy when they were back—focus. She fills her stomach and then goes to find somewhere to hole up and sleep because she's suddenly feeling extremely tired.

Relieving herself in this form is just so much worse.

But once she's awake she does, actually, feel sufficiently recovered for a proper hunt.

What time even is it? Time is relevant for hunting.

It is late afternoon, by the light. Not a great hunting time in itself, that's usually the depths of night, when the prey are asleep and sight-blind. It gives her time to get set up and choose her hunting ground, if she'd like.

That is exactly what she is going to do. Her senses are duller but when she's closer enough to anywhere to be able to smell it she can recognise it, so she'll soon be able to reorient herself and then, after making sure she is far away from where the not-prey with the cold sharp not-claw bested her, she will find one of her familiar hunting grounds.

Of which she had many. She learned a long time ago that prey would avoid anywhere she spent too long at so she has a whole rotation of places she hunts around, plus she'd occasionally travel farther afield to scout new grounds. She can't travel very far or fast in this form though so familiar will have to do.

The best hunting grounds, in her very seasoned experience, are to the south. Northwards, the prey are more numerous, but also more organized. They make great hives of stone and wood, and they call to the rest of their pack for assistance if they can, and swarm accordingly. It can make for very fun hunting, especially if she makes, gathers, and leads a pack of her own, but it's a bit of a major endeavor. Her prey is clever, and over the years, some have figured out how to summon and throw fire along with their usual flying stingers. To the west the prey are even more entrenched, and the entrances of their great hives of stone are jealously guarded. It's possible to climb over their walls, of course, but it makes escape after a successful hunt tricky. East is the Great Cold, where lingering ancient magic and the biting chill scare off even the most desperate of prey. Not a very good hunting ground at all, that.

But... she was ambushed by the not-prey in the south. In familiar lands she'd only recently cycled back to hunting, she hadn't been particularly entrenched.

...the south is big, there's probably enough space for her to not run into the not-prey, she'd managed to avoid it this long. And if she smells it she can always—and this greatly injures her pride but better her pride than her—run away.

Hopefully it won't come to that.