Emery marvels at the beauty of the foliage. The trees grow thick and tall, and shrubs and moss cover the ground. She guesses from the colors of the leaves that it's probably summertime. It's fairly warm, but nowhere near the suffocating heat she's used to. Once upon a time, this weather would've called for a day spent fishing, with overalls and a tank top. On that thought, she slips her pack over her head and sets it on the ground, kneeling beside it. Summoning an image to her head, she sticks her toddler hand into the bag, and pulls out a small tunic, trousers, and a pair of little boots. It's nice to be wearing clothes that fit, she thinks, and she stuffs the old clothes into the bag.
Now dressed in comfortable new toddler clothes (and noting the oddity of that thought), she shoulders her pack and starts walking in a random direction. The way she has it figured, no forest goes on forever, so however long it takes, she'll eventually exit the forest.
After a few hours of straight walking and climbing over roots, Emery sits on the ground beside a tree to rest. Her new body surprisingly has little endurance, especially considering that small children are well known for having too much energy. Her stomach aches, but she dismisses it. Until it rumbles. For a moment, she forgets where she is and that she doesn't have to wait for Aaron to announce the mealtimes. When she realizes, she chuckles and pulls her pack towards her. She thinks "food" and sticks her hand inside. What she pulls out, however, is anything but edible.
It's a folded piece of paper. Furrowing her brow in confusion, she unfolds it. The inside reads, "Not yet, dear child. It is crucial that you learn to use your gift. Look around you for what you need. Trust your instincts." Oh, that's helpful, she thinks sarcastically.
Emery looks around, scavenging her mind for anything about edible plants. Roots of almost any plant are edible, but her toddler hands aren't strong enough to dig through the hard dirt. She tries to remember anything else that might help. She can recognize some spices, but spices are flavor, not food. She remembers reading somewhere that if you cut an inch or two deep into a pine tree and scrape off the outer bark, you can eat the inner bark. That might help, except that even with a knife, she isn't strong enough in her toddler form to cut into the trees. She continues to comb her memories, and continues to come up with nothing useful.
After a while, Emery decides to accept the hunger for now and focus on her objective to get out of the forest. She stands and brushes herself off, shoulders her pack, and continues walking in the direction she'd been going. Or thought she'd been going. Was she still going the same way? Uh oh. She quickly takes off the pack and reaches inside it for a compass. She does get one, but it keeps spinning and spinning with no set point. Frustrated, she throws the compass away. She tries to remember what her first grade teacher had said about alternatives for a compass. Stars? No, that wouldn't work. Judging from the sun's position, it can't be any later than mid afternoon. Wait a minute...the sun! It rises in the east and sets in the west! As long as she knows the approximate time and the season, she can tell which ways are north, south, east, and west. She just needs to get a better view...aha! She finds a tree populated with enough limbs for her to climb. She pulls herself up branch after branch to the top of the tree, forcing herself not to look down. Once she's at the top, she has a clear view of the sun. She knows it's summertime, based on the blooming flowers, and that it's currently the middle of the afternoon. After some mental gymnastics (math never was her best subject), she determines that north is just slightly to her right. Grinning happily, she climbs back down.
+l+
After a few hours, Emery has a new appreciation for toilets, and she begins to think the direction she chose was either wrong or incorrect. If the latter, then she did the math wrong or forgot something. If the former, then she simply chose the wrong way to go. Hungry. Either way, the forest is getting denser, which means she's walking father into it rather than getting out. She sits down for a few minutes to rest, then turns on her heal and goes the other way.
+l+
A few hours more, and it seems she's no closer to escaping the wood. If anything, with every turn she makes, the trees only become thicker and closer together. Hungry. She begins to worry if she will ever get out. Thirsty. Is there no end to the suffocating forest? Tired. So tired. Emery's toddler body is exhausted. She sits on the ground and removes the bag from her back, huffing in frustration. She may never have been much of a runner, but in her teenage human body she was able to walk and walk all day, her muscles always lasting longer than her stomach or bladder. She hasn't been sore like this in a long time. Setting the pack in front of her, she lifts the flap and thinks, "bed roll," then pulls out a nice toddler-sized bed roll. She does the same with "blanket," then tucks herself in and quickly falls asleep.
+l+
When she wakes, the sun has barely risen and the crickets are still chirping. Crickets! Emery bolts upright (wincing at her sore muscles as they protest her movement) as she remembers that crickets and other insects are edible and usually easy to find. She cringes at the thought of eating bugs, but at the moment, it's her best option. She puts the blanket and bedroll away and begins her search for crawling, hopping, and chirping food.
Half an hour later, she realizes that bug hunting is nowhere near as easy as she thought. Being hungry and thirsty isn't helping, either. She plops down on the ground with a sigh and closes her eyes. She listens. She tries to detect anything that her eyes weren't able to. Then she notices something. A familiar smell. Is that...could that actually be here? She opens her eyes and follows her nose on her hands and knees. Her nose leads her a short distance to a small mint plant. She mentally cheers and begins carefully plucking the leaves. The most common use for mint is for flavor, but it also has medicinal uses, having the ability to treat rashes and colds. What Emery is interested in, though, is the fact that the leaves of the mint plant are very much edible. They don't provide much in the way of nutrition, but it soothes the ache in her stomach. After she finishes off the last leaf, she collapses onto her side. As wonderful as it was to soothe her hunger, the mint did nothing about her thirst. The issue of water is still present, and more pressing. If only she could smell the water...and maybe more food...and find it that way.
Smell...SMELL! That's it! Emery sits up excitedly as she remembers what Tulkas told her. She has the ability to turn into any animal she wishes. An animal with a good sense of smell - a wolf, for instance - would be more than able to find food! She sits back on her heels and closes her eyes. There's just one problem, though: she has no idea how to turn into a wolf. Perhaps that's what the note meant. She needs to learn to shape shift. She goes through her memories of stories that feature this kind of change. Some focused on the animal's instincts, some on their senses, some on the feel of the body of the animal, and many more techniques. She mentally goes through each and every one she can recall, and remains a dwarfling. Another thought occurs to her. What if the animals are linked to her own appearance as she currently is? What if it's simply a matter of picturing herself as something else?
She imagines her limbs growing shorter, her face growing outward, a tail sprouting at the base of her spine, her ears becoming longer, and her hair shortening and spreading to cover her entire body. And that's exactly what happens.
She keeps her eyes closed, but is still overwhelmed by the sensory intake. She can feel the minute movement of the air as it travels through her fur. She can hear the leaves faintly rustling at the very tops of the trees. She can taste the pollen in the air as she pants. She can smell...yes!
Emery opens her eyes and is surprised by how good her vision is. Canines are supposedly colorblind, and yet her vision has only been sharpened by a considerable amount. After getting over the surprise, she sniffs the air again. Yes! There it is! She crouches and then pounces on the unsuspecting cricket. Unconcerned with anything besides filling her stomach, she chews the bug quickly and swallows it ravenously. She does this a few more times. Having satisfied her hunger for now (and intentionally ignored the fact that she just ate several big bugs), she turns her head to examine herself. What she finds is surprising, but she supposes it makes sense.
She's a puppy. Not quite small enough to comfortably fit into a shoebox, but she definitely has the proportions that would indicate an age of no more than a month. Her fur coat is mocha-colored, just like her hair, and her tail is tiny. She looks around for her pack, but she can't find it. She assumes it faded with her change like her clothes did.
Emery suddenly remembers how thirsty she is. She starts panting, her tongue hanging slightly from her mouth. There are no signs of rain or dew. Roots...roots are edible, but they also carry a lot of water. Where before she had weak toddler hands, she now has functional puppy paws. If she can reach the roots, she can get food and water at the same time. She walks until she's a few feet away from the nearest tree, then starts to dig. It takes a good hour and a half to reach a root, but it was more than worth it. As soon as she takes the first bite into the root, her tongue laps up the sweet water as she chews on it. Being in the the form of a very young wolf cub, she shouldn't still be hungry, but she goes digging for two more roots before she's full. Then again, her size may have something to do with it. She has the proportions of a young pup, but the size of one that's already halfway grown.
It's after she realizes this that she notices the sun has lowered considerably and is approaching dusk. She decides not to change back. The wolf is much more comfortable with the night's temperature than the dwarfling. She walks toward another tree, but completely forgets about the hole she dug in search of roots. She falls into it and hits her rear right leg. When she finally lands and is still, there's a sharp pain just above her paw. She carefully sits up, wincing as her leg is jarred. She tries to use her good hind leg to get out, but the hole is too deep for her to escape with her injury. Suddenly the exhaustion from the day hits her in full force and her eyelids become very heavy. She whimpers softly and lays down carefully. Curling up into a ball, she soon falls asleep.