Collette made her way free of the building once she'd escaped from the elevator. It was unfortunate, timing wise, and then it was irritating on a personal level that she chose to turn into an opportunity. One wheelchair was elevator-locked, and the other was floor locked by being back in her apartment.
She wasn't forced to stay inside. She probably should have been, but the itching feeling of wanting to do had left her bidding farewell to her fellow escapee and then morphing into a shape better meant for cruising around familiar territory.
As a coyote, she'd slunk out of the apartments, sticking to shadows and keeping to uncoordinated routes that wound slowly toward the less habited areas. She doesn't feel so much like walking into people today, enjoying the scent of things caught out in the rain, tracking down something odd here, something familiar there, and then slowing down as she catches a scent that's family -- but not.
Canine? She's wary, trying to parse if its anything like the native canines, but it lacks that edge that tickles her sinuses like all the mutated canines did. It's not the scent of the large wolf accompanying the kid who she'd run into before, a scent she'd gone out of her way to avoid after being sicced; nor was it any of the others she could identify from memory.
She probably should have been scared. Coyotes aren't imposing at their size, smaller than any natural wolf, let alone something larger. Yet the idea is exciting as well as cautious, moving forward quietly and then pausing again as the scent gets newer to brace her legs and announce herself.
< Anyone out here? > She yips, vocalizing just in case she was dealing with something that was pure animal. Thought Speak into the mind of something non-sentient tended to produce more confusion than a vocalization the animal could recognize as coming from another animal, unlike or like itself. < I smell something, but I'm not sure if that's someone getting a new family member named Fido or not. Up for a game of fetch? >
She's amused by her suggestion, nonserious as it is, and it carries in her mental tone.
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She wasn't forced to stay inside. She probably should have been, but the itching feeling of wanting to do had left her bidding farewell to her fellow escapee and then morphing into a shape better meant for cruising around familiar territory.
As a coyote, she'd slunk out of the apartments, sticking to shadows and keeping to uncoordinated routes that wound slowly toward the less habited areas. She doesn't feel so much like walking into people today, enjoying the scent of things caught out in the rain, tracking down something odd here, something familiar there, and then slowing down as she catches a scent that's family -- but not.
Canine? She's wary, trying to parse if its anything like the native canines, but it lacks that edge that tickles her sinuses like all the mutated canines did. It's not the scent of the large wolf accompanying the kid who she'd run into before, a scent she'd gone out of her way to avoid after being sicced; nor was it any of the others she could identify from memory.
She probably should have been scared. Coyotes aren't imposing at their size, smaller than any natural wolf, let alone something larger. Yet the idea is exciting as well as cautious, moving forward quietly and then pausing again as the scent gets newer to brace her legs and announce herself.
< Anyone out here? > She yips, vocalizing just in case she was dealing with something that was pure animal. Thought Speak into the mind of something non-sentient tended to produce more confusion than a vocalization the animal could recognize as coming from another animal, unlike or like itself. < I smell something, but I'm not sure if that's someone getting a new family member named Fido or not. Up for a game of fetch? >
She's amused by her suggestion, nonserious as it is, and it carries in her mental tone.