I woke in a body that wasn't my own. And I was going to fix that. After all, what else can a fox's curse spend his death doing? The moonlight above me was bright -- empowering, even, rendering the previous owner of this body blinded, paralyzed, powerless as I coursed through the body's veins, feeling my way around its senses and form. His fundamental body plan is basically the same as mine was, so this shouldn't take very long: I just need to ... tweak the details here and there to recreate the fox I once was. Mind you, this isn't about what I want -- it's [i]what he deserves.[/i] First to go were those poor excuses for paws, as I curved and folded the body's nails into proper claws, and flexed the digits to ensure they could support my running weight. But the thumbs can more or less stay where they are -- it baffles me how these creatures manage on two legs, but I will concede there are certain advantages to keeping your hands off the ground, and I should exploit that while I can. Maybe that's why they became such a pervasive species to begin with? I pressed my completed hands against the sides of my head, then wiped forwards across my face, drawing out the familiar fox muzzle and jaw that I used to call my own. No wonder these poor animals can't smell a thing, they just don't have enough room in the nose for comprehending scent! I then slicked my hands back over my head, sculpting my ears into their proper shape, size, and position, combing the fur flat and checking that I could tune them in the proper directions. Sure, these poor, two-legged beasts have better much hearing than smell, but they still pale in comparison to the ears of a fox! Speaking of fur ... the artificial tatters draping this body were quick to be shed; they were an ideal material to actually test my claws against, and besides, they'd only get in the way of my work if I left literally anything on. These creatures had the nerve to call such shreds a "coat"? No, but I guess I shouldn't expect so much from animals who can't even grow their own. With nothing left to encumber my work on this body, I quickly brushed my fur down the front, the sides, and back, then raked my claws through this newly restored fur once more, with just enough attention to ensure it was clean and neat and proper, light and breathable as our summer coats should be. And at least shedding season is over. Now, about those hind legs ... again, it's a miracle they can be good runners with such short feet! Kneeling down, I brushed the fur black and straight to cover the legs in, strengthening the toes and curling their stubby claws properly before standing back up on the pads of my fox feet, repeatedly lifting and flexing each leg in turn until they acquired the proper lengths and tiptoe stance that I am used to having. Almost done, now. But how am I forgetting something...? What was wrong with my legs -- don't mistake me, they definitely had strength enough for me to stand, even upright on just two of them, but my sense of balance insisted I wasn't stable in this position. Something was missing. After some thought and analysis, the reason why finally fell off the tip of my tongue: [i]Where is my tail?[/i] Right, no fox would be caught dead without their tail -- not that that's how I got killed to begin with, mind you, I definitely took my tail with me. I sat down, glancing over my shoulder as I brushed fur down my back, spine and muscle and skin following my gestures as I corrected the most fundamental oversight of this thing's body plan. Once this nascent tail matched my ankles for length I curled it around me while kneading the fur out even farther, extending it out until my tail completed one full loop around myself, proof of its proper length. A bit of ... spit and polish, they call it? -- ensured the tip fur was reflecting the pale white of the moon above. And as long as I was sitting down, I lightly combed fur between my legs to be sure I hadn't missed [i]any[/i] region -- very important, after all, that [i]those[/i] particular organs are kept clean and working properly in their correct places. Nobody wants to suffer from problems "down there", not with the stink, the mess, or the chance of making yourself sick. At least these two-legged animals knew to keep themselves clean, even if their rituals for doing so were stranger than ours. Speaking of potentially missing a spot, did I apply the proper colors to the rest of my coat? A quick combing of claws down my front confirmed the proper grey tones, though without a reflection of my face I couldn't be sure of that, so a mental reflection over my work would have to suffice -- and it did. White cheeks and a white throat against my base tone of auburn? Check. Whiskers flanking the round nose? Present and properly sensitive. Ears folding back closed when I needed them to? Right, and I already checked that. I think that's everything. Now I can proceed with the finale, the "coup de grace" -- this body's previous mind, the person's soul if you will. The moonlight had already silenced them, allowing me to set their soul aside in my mind so I could get to work on their -- [i]my[/i] -- body unimpeded and undistracted. And, sure, I [i]could[/i] just leave them this isolated state forever -- they are "me" now ... or am I "them"? Bah, semantics. They took my life already, now I get to take theirs, that's just how us curses work. But, it would still be cruel to just ... forget them like a bad dream; I should at least spend time dissecting their memories, their knowledge ... something, anything to remember them by, so that their previous existence is not entirely for naught. And I needed to do it now; my duty as a curse was fulfilled, and my capacity to mold this form as I must would vanish with it, leaving me alone in my new fox body. So I closed my eyes and focused my attention inside myself, looking for the lost soul who had the misfortune of slaying me, and elevated their mind before mine as if on a chef's plate before a judge, just above the threshold for intentional, conscious activity. Speak, fellow soul. Just who did I have the honor of consuming? They answered. No... Oh no, this can't be right... Every single fur on my body tensed up on edge -- all seven million one-hundred-ninety-four thousand or so individual strands, and no I wasn't trying to keep count -- and my sense of temperature plummeted as if my summer coat offered even [i]less[/i] protection against the night's cool breeze than their barenaked skin did before me. Proof that this new body was furthermore mine. What have I [i]done!?[/i] I could hardly believe what they said, but as I tore their recent memories open for a frantic, cursory inspection (to avoid causing them further harm) I could find no evidence to falsify their response by. Yes they were confused, as should be any person caught up in the curse of a dying fox -- but no doubt about it: they were telling the truth. This person wasn't my murderer. They did not [i]deserve this![/i] How could I do this to them? I don't mean how I reshaped their body to replace mine, that was merely my duty as a curse, and I had just as much agency in this fate as they did -- none whatsoever. I mean more specifically, how could I possibly curse [i]an innocent soul?[/i] What exactly went wrong? Maybe I should have listened to the elders' warnings, just resigned myself to my death instead of transforming myself into a curse upon someone else, as the Ancient Ones did. There's good reason foxes don't do that anymore; there aren't many of us who remember it's even possible, not any more. But what alternatives could a dying fox possible have with his final breaths? After all, I didn't exactly have anything left to lose for trying.... I crumpled onto the ground, curling up my body as I showed him the first glimpse of the world through my -- [i]our[/i] -- new eyes. The moonlight above was comforting on our fur, yes, but I knew it was just a token comfort, like a greeting from a passing stranger. How's your day? Good, how's yours? Good too, it's nice to see you. And we move along. I couldn't change this person back if I tried, as I didn't exactly bother to memorize the details of their original shape. And I couldn't even change them again if I wanted to do that either, I'd already used up that underlying power in changing their shape to suit mine. So what do I -- no, what do "we" do now?