Zak had finally filled his belly, at the expense of a few rabbits. He licked himself clean, and then settled down to think. To be able to think, to feel the wind through his fur, and know he could go where he wished seemed such a luxury. First of all, what was he?

He idly rubbed at the darkness on his arm for a few moments before realizing how much of the dirt and blood from his previous life still clung to him. He slipped into a nearby wetness. It had a name, he remembered that it had a name. Ah, yes. River. He remembered that in the before-times, he had made the word-sound. Perhaps he could say it?

"Ri-rrr."

Well, that could have gone better. Maybe if he kept trying, tried other words. But first, to clean his fur. To be clan. He remembered being clean. To be so again...

The tide pulled against him, and Zak ducked under the water to see more. He inspected the bottom of the riverbed for a few moments before noticing the webbing that had unfurled from between his fingers. He twisted around and inspected his toes to find that they too had webbing, though when he pushed on his toe webbing it wouldn't coil back in like the finger webbing. And why didn't he have water up his nose after a stunt like that, anyway? He felt his nose, to find that his nostrils had clamped shut, sealing out the water. He felt his ears next, to find that they had coiled down slightly, but not far enough to make even the slightest pretense at keeping the water out of his ears.

Perhaps he could breath underwater? Zak considered the question for a few moments, before he felt the need for air reach his as he lunged for the surface, suddenly feeling the overwhelming need for fresh air within him. Ah, to breath clean air, free of the stench that always hovered about his cage and the pit. Zak realized that his playing in the water had washed the dirt from him and hauled himself up on the bank for a closer inspection.

He already knew of his tail, claws, and fangs. He'd used them all in the pit to his own advantage. Even so, he spent a few moments idly sheathing and unsheathing his claws, watching as they slid out to gleam in the sunlight. The sun did feel good, but his claws itched. Idly, he raked them against the bark of a nearby tree. Mmmm, that felt good. All thoughts flew out of his head as he attended to his claws, sharpening them against the bark of the tree.

Ten minutes and one mutilated tree later, Zak was back to considering his own changes. He realized that not all of the darkness on his arm had been dirt. All of the fur on his hands and nost of his fore-arm was a dark chocolaty brown, which paled to a cream as it rode up his shoulder. Looking down, he noticed the same coloring on his legs. His tail was the same brown, and through some extreme twisting Zak guessed that the dark streak continued all the way up his backbone. Longish hair of the same color was on the top of his head and framed his face, as it had in the before-times. Zak peered into the river to see that most of his face was creamy, but there was a darker splotch across his nose and eyes. As far as Zak could tell, the rest of him was the same creamy color.

As time went on, Zak was remembering more and more of the before times. He remembered that going out in public naked was bad because everyone could see your private bits, but he thought it was ok now. During his mutation a slit had developed so he could hide his private bits within the rest of his body.(1) Maybe that meant it was ok now. But still, he did not intend to let himself be seen.

Zak remembered his previous attempt with words, and ecided to try again. Maybe this thime he could get something right. What could he say?

Zak.

"Zak."

Well, that was one right? What else?

"Riff-er"

Well, he was getting closer to saying river. Maybe tree?

"Fffrree."

Well, maybe he couldn't say tree yet, but he could say something better. What else? Rock?

"Rak"

Green?

"hhhrreen."

Water?

"aker."

This was going to take some work.

Bit by bit Zak was remembering more of his previous life. He remebered having five toes insted of four. He remembered being overjoyed when he started growing facial hair at the age of twelve, until he realized it wasn't an early beard. He remebered hiding his fur, using dad's razor to shave it. He remembered the pinpricks of pain as his claws started forming, remembered always wearing gloves to hide his hands after his fingernails fell out. He remembered freaking out as he had to hide a bulge in his undies he'd never expected when his tail started growing in.

He remembered. And he remembered when his father had found out. How father'd beaten him, and dragged him away from a normal life. How he'd learned to call father his master.

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(1) Do some research on whales. You'll figure it out.

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