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Holding Herself Together

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by Daniel18

_ _

_ _

Ankha sighed, the feline pacing out into the forest, away from the other inhabitants of the island. Butterflies danced around her, though there were thankfully no wasps around that day. The cat shuddered at the thought of a wasp sneaking up on her, though, to be fair, it was not as if she was all that keen on bees either. It was something about the way they buzzed, the sound their wings made grinding on her sensitive ears. Butterflies and moths were much safer.

It's got so busy there, she thought, checking that the motif was still in place in the centre of her forehead. It's not at all like when I first moved out to the island.

_ _

She was, by her feline nature, a more solitary soul – and that was not something Ankha ever would have wanted to change about herself. She liked her alone time and she paused by the river to see if there were any fish close to the surface, their shadows flickering back and forth. Ankha's reflection blinked back at her, though the ripples made from the fish distorted her golden fur and blue hair. She had it styled to hold the Egyptian motif in the centre of her forehead, which remained a soft reminder of her heritage.

Ankha smiled and dipped deeper into the forest, relaxing the more she strode out, feeling how the muscles contracted and relaxed in her legs with every single stride. Yet there was something new about the forest that day, as if it had been rearranged in the habitation of the island once again. That was not that unusual and her light whiskers twitched as she investigated.

“What's that?" Ankha muttered under her breath as a wooden structure rose from the trees. “A shack? Now, that really wasn't here before."

It was, indeed, new, but only a small shack that looked to be raised a foot or so from ground level. It was not the kind of structure Ankha was at all familiar with, though she saw no harm in investigating it.

The wooden door creaked as she pushed it open, sending a shiver up her spine – though it was a good shiver. Curiosity had always been a nuance in her and, to be fair, it had got her into trouble before on more than one occasion. But that wasn't at all something Ankha was going to worry about.

It wasn't that interesting inside, furnished lightly with a single chair and a picture on the wall, as if it was in the process of being decorated.

Who's going to live here?

_ _

Although the floorboards and walls were clean, the shack gave the impression of being a work in progress: not run-down but not built-up into anything serviceable either. Yet as she stepped into the middle of the room, the floor bowed under her and the cat leapt – but it was too late!

With an almighty crack, she was sent tumbling through the collapsing floor as it broke under her feet, leaving her scrabbling and yowling. Yet no matter how Ankha clawed at the wooden boards of the shack, she wasn't able to stop herself from falling into the mud beneath with a wet splat.

“Oof! Ah – help!"

She yowled, her short coat of fur plastered disgustingly to her body: a clinging sensation that no feline enjoyed. Her lips twisted in visible disgust – but the puddle of mud was much deeper than expected. It was easily too deep for her to stand in and she paddled instinctively, trying to get to the side of the muddy water as it swilled and slopped around her. The floor of the shack – what was left of it anyway – was not all that far above her head, though there was a gaping hole in it that at least allowed light down to the underside where she was.

But something was wrong and her movements became dull and heavy, so slow that it was as if she was not even trying to move at all. Every limb felt like it weighed four times what it had before and it was with a bubbling cry that she sank under the surface.

“Mmph?"

She gurgled faintly but no longer needed to breathe – at least, her lungs weren't burning like she had to. That was at least helpful, probably something to do with the island or a new feature that had been brought in to help the residents there, and she tried to calm herself, blinking as she looked around the odd, muddy pit she'd fallen into. It had been full of mud and not water when she'd fallen in, though it was something she could see through when she was in it, as if it had suddenly become brown-coloured water instead while she floated beneath the surface.

Ankha grumbled, though felt the sound inside her rather than hearing it in any manner. She tried to look down at herself but didn't really feel the same muscles working in her neck and back when she moved her head, even if her body looked strange. Her clothes were still in place, but they floated as if they were not really a part of her body anymore. The white dress, trimmed in blue, drifted and pulled, feeling oddly like it was pulling through parts of her where it caught at the back of her neck and under her arms.

But that couldn't be real, could it?

Ankha grunted and tried to pull herself back to the surface again, ignoring how her hand looked slicker than before, as if she was outside the muddy pool and had mud clinging to her. She imagined how mud felt when it dried, as if it was forming a muddy cast on her body. Yet it was wet and slippery at that time, gluing itself together all over her.

Yet the feline did not yet know the truth of the matter, oh no. As her hand broke the surface at last, fingers twitching into open air, it just felt like it was too heavy for her to hold up.

Gravity had never worked like that before, although Ankha knew her only option was to climb her way out of the mud pit, somehow, and get free of the shack. She couldn't stay there forever, so the feline drew on every ounce of tenacity and determination she had in her, slowly but surely clawing and hauling herself up.

She had no idea how long it took, though it seemed to be an age as she pulled herself from the water, feeling the dull, sludgy strain on her arms, as if they were doing a lot more work than could ever be expected of them as she tried to merely draw herself from the mud pit. It ached strangely too, her arms prickling and itching as she used them, though Ankha grunted wetly, barely even able to see what she was doing.

Come on…

_ _

Her lips moved faintly, mud strung out between them, and she fought the urge to make a face. Who knew where the mud would have ended up if she opened her mouth that much, after all? No, no… All Ankha had to do was to get herself out of the mud and on to solid ground again.

Yet the feline could not have known that her body, mostly, had broken apart when she'd fallen into the mud and, as her vision cleared, she was kneeling up outside the mud. Her chest heaved from the exertion, though her breaths came with a stranger, wetter quality to them, even if there was no pain or ache in her chest at all.

What's going on? Ankha thought. None of this makes sense.

_ _

And things didn't make more sense either when she looked down, her head sticking up into the shack and the ground floor of the single room in there. For a moment, Ankha blinked, not sure how she was in that position when she was so sure she had dragged herself to the side of the mud pit. Her legs ached along the knees and shins and the tops of her feet too, where she knelt, though it was more of a tickling sensation – the kind of sensation that she wanted to brush away and rub from her flesh.

Yet there she was: on top of the sludgy mud pit. Even though she'd clearly been dragged down into it, there was somehow more than enough substance there now for her to hold her own weight, though the feline swallowed her worry over that. It was surely just another strange thing that she'd have to get used to on the island, nothing at all for her to worry about, not really.

At least, that was what Ankha told herself, for there was only so much to be done there, really. The feline stood slowly, though found it come easily, which was at least something. Her body still felt oddly tight, as if her flesh was clinging to itself, btu there was still that soft, brown layer of mud coating her all over, even holding its shape on her clothes too. The dress didn't feel like it hid anything much of her anymore, though Ankha was very glad it was still there.

I've got to get out!

_ _

Panic clawed at her, snapping and snarling its way up within her from the pit of her stomach, though it was not as if the feline could be to blame for fear getting the better of her. Stumbling, Ankha lunged for the exit, where she had entered the shack, although the door itself was missing.

And she didn't get very far anyway, her body fumbling and falling and dragging her down and down and down. She tumbled to the floor with gravity pulling her down from the knees, yet she did not realise just how much her body had changed.

“Oof…"

Ankha managed to let out a soft grunt as her legs folded her forward on to the wooden floorboards, though the pressure of her heavier, thicker body pulled her wantonly into place. It was as if she was trying to hold sloppy mud between her hands, as much as everything ached when she stumbled forward.

Her heart pounded, sending a bounding beat through her chest, as her ankles bent too far – yet there was no pain there at all. On her knees, her ankles bent all the way back, almost at a right angle – but it was most certainly an angle that would not have been possible if things had been normal for her. She heaved, taking a bubbling breath, but her arms didn't come up in time either as her torso swayed and wobbled forward.

Her soft mass dragged her upper body forward too and her arms dropped out – though they merely bent sloppily at the elbows as she tried and failed to catch herself. Her wrists faced the same fate as her ankles, bending like limp noodles, but her body splayed out on the floor.

She moaned, her body melting and oozing as if she had nothing more than the consistency of thick cream to work with, a sloppy, brown pile. Yet there was definitely a mud-like slickness about her as she melted with the impact, which seemed comforting to Ankha at least, for it was something tangible she could cling to.

“Unff…"

She didn't hear the sound coming from her lips but heard it inside her head, her body a shapeless pile after impact. It didn't hurt, not really, but her body cramped where her limbs had bent too far and deformed, feeling like her face too had melted into the shapeless, muddled pile of what had been Ankha.

Inside, something trembled. It was as if something was vibrating, driving her on, yet the lack of movement held her in place, quivering faintly.

I've got to pull myself together, even if I don't know what this is, she thought, ever the pragmatic one, even in a situation that Ankha could never have encountered before. I've just got to think about the shape of my body… I just wish I knew what was happening!

_ _

In that lack of shape, the feline could not even grind her teeth to rally herself. It was as if she had been forced into something soft and yielding when, honestly, she was not exactly so in her usual life.

Seconds passed as she focused her mind – but it came more easily than it had when she had been pulling her body back to the surface of the pool. Maybe it was because Ankha knew what she was trying to do that time, even if she was winging it, her body sucking back into a kneeling position. It was strange, especially with that ever-present prickling and tingling sensation, like there were bugs dancing over her with their legs tickling her all over.

She would have squashed them if she'd been able to see them.

On her knees again, she blinked at her hand as the mud itched back into her fingers, showing the shape and definition of them again – although the colour wasn't right. Everything in her body seemed to be made from mud and it was not perfectly smooth but had “lines" on it, as if the mud was not perfectly formed. It reminded her of how the rain and other elements left wash-like marks in the mud around the island and especially the puddles.

Is this what my body is going to be like now? Ankha thought with a shudder that had a drop of mud rolling down her back. I'm not sure I can deal with this…

_ _

Standing up smoothly, she got her feet under her and stood in the middle of the shack, not knowing what else to do. She smoothed her hands out over what she thought was her dress – but the shape of it melted back into her body. Even though the rise of her breasts was in place, it looked like her dress had been lost to the mud, even though nothing was visible on her either, as she looked down, that would have been risqué. There were no obvious nipples, to say the least, and Ankha squirmed uncomfortably.

That was wrong, very wrong, but she had to keep going, had to keep trying to make sense of what had happened to her. Trying to wipe away the mud didn't work, for it transferred to her hands and smoothed back over, leaving her with a firm, solid sensation in the wake of it. She couldn't just scoop handfuls of mud out of herself, even though it seemed sticky and cream-like.

Her heart pounded and she tried to calm herself, though the loss of her whiskers and, on bringing her hands up to her face, the definition of her headwear and motif had her stomach lurching.

Out, out… If she got out, she'd be able to take stock of all that was going on, even if she was stuck naked there. Forcing herself to take slow, deep, even breaths, she headed for the door until she stepped over the floorboards and on to solid, outside ground.

Her feet, however, had only been holding their shape as well as they were as she had still been standing on some of the mud when she'd fallen over and reformed. They had the same consistency, after all.

Once her foot hit the boards properly, with no mud tracking with her, they squashed and she gasped, the ache shooting up her leg. Even though the cramps were not painful, her foot moulded out of shape as if it was being formed by huge, unseen hands, the feline struggling to take another step.

Her feet melted and squidged, though the mud-like substance that was her body remained stuck together, which was at least something. Her face wrinkled and Ankha grunted in distaste. Even worse than feeling like her skin was tickling with bugs – her feet looked like slugs! All soft and yielding, like they wouldn't even hold her body up as they were!

“Ohhh…"

She moaned quietly, as if afraid to be too loud. What if she was louder and things got even freakier? There was still no way to know what was going on, though it all seemed like some kind of Halloween prank that the island owner would play on them. Isabelle wouldn't do anything like that to them, however, would she? Ankha felt, before, she was so sure that Isabelle would have, at the very least, warned her that something like that was going on – but even that didn't make sense as she'd been affected far out from the village and bustling main hub of the island.

“Oof…"

It hurt, kind of… Or, more so, it was a lack of feeling that numbed her and tried to replicate itself as pain in her head, as if her brainwaves weren't pulling on the right signals from her nervous system. It was not something that her body, after all, could ever have anticipated having to work through, and she clenched her jaw as hard as she dared. Her body bore more pressure when it was “her body" doing it – rather than her trying to stand on floorboards or, as she stepped to the doorway itself, the ground outside.

As she lifted her foot, it couldn't release its grip on the ground properly and strung out with a thinner strand of light brown mud-like substance between her foot and her ankle. Ankha gulped, swallowing a mewl of horror, as her foot was forced to crawl to the remains of her ankle, her body feeling oddly lopsided.

So it was that she had to inch her way forward, taking her time, though losing the feeling in her deformed ankles every time her slug-like feet separated from her limbs was hardly something she wanted to linger on in the slightest. Ankha grunted and tried to puff out her cheeks, though even that came with a different sensation to it, as if the skin there, if it could even be called skin anymore, was pulling tauter than before.

“Ohhhhhh…"

There was no reason for Ankha to hold back her moans, even though she was a little embarrassed to be as loud and as overt about her discomfort as she was. How could she not feel anything in her feet and ankles when they were deformed? It felt oddly like they were ghost limbs, when her feet separated from the rest of her legs, like she was merely imagining them being there and gaining all the pain and strange sensations of them being present. Her mind thought something existed that truly didn't.

Well, at least not in a way Ankha had any experience of at all. And that was okay, for she wasn't supposed to be experienced in everything. That was kind of what coming out to the island was supposed to be all about, so she could do more things and experience a different way of life.

That didn't mean the cat wanted to be turned into a mud-like, cream-like thing though!

She grunted, stifling her moans even as her face twisted and contorted, evidently showing her pain openly. Her detached feet inched and crawled in a slick mess over the floor, making her shudder in revulsion, but she had to let them come to her, as much as they itched and tickled when they reattached to her. Even when they were mostly detached, with only the thinnest of thin strings connecting them to her ankles, she could still “sense" they were there, despite the deformation.

Being “numb" was the closest feeling, or lack of feeling, that she could liken to it, yet it was not quite like that. It was the absence of feeling, truly, that had her as agitated as she was.

Thankfully, as she walked out of the shack, waiting after taking two steps on each side, her deformed mud-feet crawled after her more swiftly. It was as if things got easier by practising, though it was all very much something Ankha didn't want to have to go through, day by day, or even step by step.

“Oof… Come on… A little more…"

If she didn't go slowly, however, even the act of walking as it had now become would grind away her legs, leaving her with nothing more than stumps to walk on.

Ankha forced herself on, however, grateful, at the very least, that the tingling reformation was swift, though a strangely slick, smooth quality remained on her body regardless. It was as if the mud was always shifting – yet static at the same time. The two things didn't match up well together at all, contradicting one another, but Ankha didn't have time to linger on it, as slow as her physical progress forward was.

Yet she could move without concentrating too much and Ankha blinked, realising, at last, that she was moving naturally.

If I'm made out of mud, shouldn't I have to think about holding myself together? She thought. Like when I crawled out of the mud pit?

_ _

But maybe that had just been a coincidence, for a lot seemed to happen without her thinking about it. Ankha most certainly would never have had the thought cross her mind about her sludgy, mud-pile feet crawling like slugs to keep up with her, even if she couldn't actively keep them attached to her ankles in any way.

So, that was something, at the very least, though it felt like a very small win for the feline in the grand scheme of things. On the contrary, it felt like her body was cursed, as if it had become so dull and heavy and sloppy that it was working against her with every step, even if it “caught up" with her again.

The tickling and itching was particularly bad as she walked, the mud sucking back in to her feet with a wet squelch that was not a pleasant sound to sensitive ears. Ankha grunted, disliking the idea that her body had a mind of its own.

Holding her hand out in front of her, she tried to make it soften without actually putting any pressure on it in a physical manner. On the ground, her feet oozed and squidged out softly, itching and biting anxiously at her nervous system as they reformed and struggled to hold her shape.

Yet there was nothing, no matter how she tried to change her hand with the will of her thoughts alone, even though Ankha had been so sure that she would be able to do something, anything, if only she thought hard enough about it. Maybe it had been something she'd read in one of Isabelle's books, to be fair, but she had held on to a tiny, fragile hope that she could control it.

If her body was reforming of its own free will, it was still going to break apart from its own free will – which was a bigger part of the problem.

And it was so slow! Even though her body slopped back into place with that itching, prickling sensation crawling up her legs, she felt like she was moving through molasses. However, Ankha would not have said she was stuck back in the mud pit, which was a small improvement.

She grunted in the back of her throat as she stepped forward again, trying to think about her foot and how it could reform again. Yet her thoughts slipped through her fingers as if they had the consistency of muddy water and had no further form to them than that, her foot reforming and dragging messily back up to the stump of her ankle. Her thoughts affected her foot in no way in the slightest.

“At least I can move normally," Ankha muttered to herself, the wind wisping lightly against her form, though thankfully not affecting her mud-like body in the slightest. “That's something, I guess."

Her muscles didn't honestly feel like they were moving normally, not with the usual bunches and pulls of regular movement, but she still would take whatever she could get in the moment. She squeezed her forearm briefly, testing to see whether her fingers would sink into it in the slightest, but all they did was squidge out the faintest layer of mud from the surface of her form. It didn't last, however, all slicking achingly back into place in the blink of an eye, as if it had never been displaced in the slightest.

She wished she still had her dress on but Ankha was not struck with a sense of being naked, even if she was exposed in a way. When it no longer felt like her body, it was difficult to be embarrassed over that body being exposed at a time like that, even though nothing intimate or revealing was on show. The mud melded softly between her legs and, if there were female genitals there, they were not obvious at a first glance.

Ankha, however, hoped they were still there.

She paused by the river that snaked across the island, although Ankha didn't quite look as she imagined. Her entire body was that light shade of brown, though it was still mid-afternoon and there was more than enough light for her to at least take in her body.

Her skin was that light brown, which admittedly looked exactly like dried mud, though it was only semi-dry on her body: that state of being in-between wet and dry. Ankha's mind struggled to grasp where she was coming from there, but her attention moved on as she parted her lips and experimented with how the muscles of her face moved, changing her expression.

Everything there still seemed to be in place as her golden fur was gone and her body, in its entirety, looked like she was covered in mud – as if someone had perhaps glued it all over her. If it had dried completely, Ankha was struck by the sense that it would not have cracked or split, like she was breaking out of a protective shell, at all.

Only time, however, would tell whether her thoughts on that matter were accurate. Ankha wasn't even sure she wanted to find out.

On the outside, even though she definitely needed to pick up some more clothes from her house to complete the disguise, she looked like she could pass for normal. She turned back and forth, even able to twitch her ears a little, although Ankha had slightly less movement in them than before. Her tail curled back and forth despite the extra sense of weight and heaviness, curling down: that was manageable too and she was sure no one would query that all that much.

It was probably too late to go back and retrieve her dress from the mud pit, however, even though Ankha was glad, in a way, that she got a better sense of her body from how it was forming whenever it deformed. If she'd had a dress on, the problem may have been an arm or a leg reforming in a way that interfered with the dress actually staying on her body.

Oh, maybe I can tell anyone I come across that I'm wearing one of the wetsuits? Ankha thought, smiling and flicking her tail more confidently as she found a suitable excuse. They'll all think I was diving, I can even just tell them it's a special design! That'll be much easier.

_ _

It reassured her she'd be able to get by if she saw anyone, but it did little to help her situation. As she studied her reflection, the ripples shifting and smoothing out a little, she opened her mouth, checking out the inside. That was different, the mud-like consistency of her mouth constantly moving and reforming, very wet and melty – for want of a better way for Ankha to describe it.

Her eyes were brighter too and seemed to be glowing around the iris and the sclera of her eyeball. Ankha grunted and would have chewed her lip if that didn't feel too soft to sustain the odd nip of her teeth at that time. Would people understand if she told them she was wearing new contacts too? Saying she was wearing contact lenses as well as a new diving wetsuit seemed like a stretch, although the latter could be rectified by simply getting back to her house for a change of clothes that suited her.

Clouds swept across the island while she surveyed herself, taking her time as she did a full body sweep of herself. Ankha even turned around in a slow circle so she could see the smooth lines of mud going down over her buttocks, though it seemed to have made her thicker and curvier than before. Her thighs were bulkier, in a way, though they still looked soft. Pressing her fingers experimentally into them made the mud-like flesh yield to her touch, although that was something Ankha had come to expect.

Hopefully, no one would notice that she looked like she'd gained weight and got thicker too, though Ankha was glad that her chest, at the very least, had not grown too much in that regard. It was still much larger than her regular breasts, of course, but it looked like it all balanced out nicely with her thicker, curvier form. Ankha had never had hips like that and she spared a moment to eye them up, even if the feline was not sure whether she was admiring them or not. Her clothes would most likely still fit her when they were dresses and skirts, but trousers and shorts might be difficult, especially now that the warmer months were coming.

Hopefully, I won't be in this weird body for long, she thought as her ears slipped back grumpily. I just want to be done with this as soon as possible.

_ _

She kept going, forced to keep walking as she headed for her house, which was, unfortunately for Ankha, on the other side of the island. The constant deforming and reforming of her feet, which were thankfully the main part of her that was affected by movement, itched immensely. If she'd been in her normal body, she would have been hopping from foot to foot, trying to free herself of the lightly stabbing itchiness. Even the trembling vibrations that came when her feet were reforming, like the ground was no longer stable under her, were uncomfortable.

Ankha, however, forced herself to pause and take a break. Sitting down on a rock for somewhere to relax, she lifted her right leg and put her left foot on her knee, trying to relieve a little of the itchiness. It didn't help all that much, however, as she wiggled her toes and let the itchiness, blissfully, slip away from her foot as it fully formed into what looked to be a perfectly normal foot. The foot on the ground, however, suffered more and she was forced to swap to relieve that crampy itchiness, her mind yanked about all over the place as she tried to relieve some of the pressure in her body. Sitting on the rock sent a bristling itch into her backside too and she flicked her tail, striving and failing to, at the very least, dispel some of the discomfort lingering there.

Maybe the itchiness is my body telling me it wants a rest? She wondered. But I don't want to exactly have to lie down on mud just to rest without any itchiness. If that's what I've got to do, however, I'll have to do it.

_ _

The feline, after all, was not going to go without her nap, after all, and a good night of sleep was something she would never be without either. Ankha blinked as something pattered down on her head, though the feline had not taken note of the clouds darkening and coming in over the island when she otherwise would have been more conscious of the weather.

“Oh, no…"

Without warning, the heavens emptied and rain poured down over her, water streaming over her body. The weight of it added increasingly to her thicker form and her mud-like body sagged down, losing its form too swiftly for her comfort. Ankha slipped forward off the rock, but her knees didn't take her impact, arms already sinking into her torso while she knelt there.

“Oh noooo…"

Her words slurred as her head sank down into her neck and then her torso, though Ankha didn't lose the ability to see, which was something. She didn't know quite where she was “looking out" from but she was glad, at the very least, that she could still see something despite it all. But she had no control over her body in the slightest as it melted into itself and her chest lost its shape.

Her body slumped forward, melting to the ground slowly but surely, though she saw through a brown-coloured haze that seemed to be covering her eyes. Ankha tried to talk, but all that came out was a strange sort of gurgle.

If Ankha could have seen herself in that moment, she would have seen something like a pile of mud – as if chunks of thicker mud had been thrown in a heap together. Yet her body melted too quickly under the smoothing, watering down influence of the rain, cooling her body. It helped the itching minutely, though not enough for Ankha to be grateful for it in the slightest. Her legs slouched and slopped into one another as she moulded into a puddle that soaked into the earth, too watery to hold her substance together – if that had even been an option – above the surface.

Ankha's mind wavered and faded, though it was not to be permanent. She blacked out as she lost sense of herself and her body, though there was no fear to be had there. Despite everything that had come to pass, it was not as if the feline was in any danger.

That was something and she melted down and down and down, her substance a part of the ground, though she was still Ankha, despite everything. Slowly, she came back to some sense of consciousness, although it was Ankha's sense of touch that came back to her first.

But it was her sense of herself, as if she was swimming through a pool – though it was, again, a pool of mud. She could feel it swilling around her, filtering between her fingers and around her limbs, though it was cool and soothing. For once, there was no itching present and that was very much a relief indeed.

Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad to stay down there, the softness of the mud around her, a part of her – there was nothing but mud. Slowly able to open her eyes, all she saw around her was brown, not even with any other shades in it.

She came back to the realm of consciousness and being able to move a little more freely, however, swimming up and up and up, though it felt like she was moving through the sludge again. When she broke the surface into the real world and open air all over again, she allowed her head to reform first, solidity sliding down her neck to her shoulders and across her back.

She pulled herself free but, to her surprise, she was back in the shack and climbing out of the same mud pit that she had fallen into in the first place. Rain hammered down on the outside of the shack and she cursed under her breath, her tail flicking back and forth as she allowed it to reform, though it was quite clear that wasn't even under her control.

Her body was still as thick as it had been that first time she'd reformed into a mud-like creature, though Ankha had no idea how she was going to go forward from there.

It's good that I can't die if I melt, or if I fall apart like sloppy mud, Ankha thought. But how am I supposed to even do anything with this body? What's happened on this island?

_ _

She growled and lashed her tail, frustration getting the better of her as her body stopped vibrating, full reformed despite everything. It wasn't the life she'd wanted and being stuck with a clumsy, cursed body that was so much thicker than what she was used to wasn't at all what Ankha had in mind for her days.

Holding herself together, when it was out of her control, was going to prove a lot more difficult than anticipated…