He made to touch his face, but found he had no hands. Only soot-black wings. Only an ebony beak that allowed no words past it. A raven. A— A soft inhale of air had him twisting his neck—far more easily in this form—toward the trees. Toward Manon, standing in the shadows of an oak, her bloody, filthy hand braced against the trunk as she stared at him. At the transformation.
OMG it worked! He fully shifted!
