*Isla*
I am underwater.
How I got here, I don’t understand, but that’s where I am.
It’s odd, though. It’s like I can breathe just fine under the water, like I have shifted, but not into the wolf I’m meant to have. No, I have shifted into something aquatic, like a fish.
I can’t see my own form as I press along underneath this rapidly moving body of water. Rather, I am only aware of what is around me—the green algae growing up from the rocky muddy depths beneath my feet, the large rocks that lay in piles strewn all around me, the occasional fish that shoots by in front of me.
Water—lots and lots of murky greenish-brown water.
“Where am I?” I ask, but not aloud. If I open my mouth, this dirty water will fill my up until I am sputtering. No, it is an internal question. I don’t know the a
