Heather was working carefully on the posters for potential Animalian colonies. She had regained a lot of her old art skills, though she knew she wasn't quite at her best yet. It had taken weeks of practice for her to get to this level. The adult coloring books were a big help in that. It helped her relearn precise control of her hands. It also helped her psyche a lot to be doing her coloring books with Polly. Polly warmed up to Heather pretty well after she and her big brother started dating. She wasn't even upset that Jeremy turned into a dinosaur to be with her. If anything, she thought Jeremy looked cooler. Polly was already treating Heather like the big sister she never had.
Heather eventually looked up when she heard someone walking in. Looking over, she could see an old woman walking in. Old age has turned her hair silver and there were plenty of wrinkles on her worn face, but she still had a stately presence about her. Her skin was too tan to be considered Caucasian. She wore a purple dress that was either silk or very fine cotton and a necklace of pearls. The woman looked at Heather up and down and said in a rich Spanish accent, "You must be this Heather I have heard about."
"And you must be the countess," said Heather.
"Countess Irena, last of the de Vasconcellos," said the old woman with a nod, "I have an appointment with Dr. Stein."
"I think he's working on something right now, but he'll probably be along soon," said Heather.
The Countess nodded before she gave Heather a critical eye, "You were the one on the news, the dinosaur who attacked those children."
"Yes, and I'm not proud of it," said Heather, "Predatory instincts or not, I shouldn't have been trying to attack anyone. But I've been trying to make up for it since."
"Remorse is an important part of redemption," said the Countess. She looked at the poster Heather was working on and asked, "What is this?"
"I've been working on advertisement for future Animalian colonies," said Heather, "I've been wanting to ask your opinions regarding what you think would be appropriate for your country." The Countess walked over and looked at the poster. "It's a rough draft," said Heather, "I'm still learning how to make art with these." She held up her four-fingered clawed hands.
"You show good talent," said the Countess, "Though you'll need proper details about my country."
"I know Spanish pretty good," said Heather, "I spent quite a bit of time in Costa Rica."
"My language of my country is different from Costa Rica and the other countries south of here," said the Countess, "The dialect has been altered being so far away from España."
"I heard so," said Heather, "And apparently American English is different from British English in a few ways so I'll have to ask Lord Cholmondeley about his opinions as well."
"Chumly," said the Countess.
"Pardon?" asked Heather.
"His name, it is pronounced 'Chumly'. Don't ask me why, it's an Old English name," said the Countess.
"Do you know him?" asked Heather.
"No, but I know how his country works well enough," said the Countess.
"I'd like to hear about you and your country," said Heather, "I understand your family dates back very far."
Countess de Vasconcellos drew herself up taller and said, "Sí, the de Vasconcellos family were one of the oldest noble families in Spain. We sent good Christian men to fight in the Crusades. Some of my ancestors were actual members of the Knights Templar."
"Wow, that's some grand ancestry," said Heather.
"The Templars were as much a curse as a blessing," said the Countess, "Their downfall is the source of much tragedy. It was the French's fault, of course. King Phillip IV was in too much debt to them and encouraged the distrust that sprang up around the Templars and the failure of the Crusades and pressured the Pope to abolish the order."
"There was an article in Animalian Magazine about the Templars," said Heather, "But at least your family was in Spain instead of France."
"There was persecution there. The Inquisition was the Pope's instrument of persecution there. The ransacking of my family's villa is still a sore point in my family's history," said the Countess, "But still, my family endured that. It was the last civil war that broke it."
"How many civil wars did you have in your country?" asked Heather.
"Far more than in yours," said the Countess, "There were four alone after Napoleon. The fourth was the bloodiest. Do you know much about it?"
Heather just shrugged and said, "I've seen Pan's Labyrinth."
The Countess scoffed and said, "An oversimplification wrapped up with fantasy. The Nationalists did have some fascists among them, but Francisco Franco actively try to suppress the Falangism. The Republicans were not all freedom fighters, some being as brutal and ruthless as their enemies. It was ultimately a war of fools vs. fools. And unfortunately, there were too many of my family who decided to join that war of fools, thinking to reclaim some old honor. A futile gesture and one that left no heirs left to the de Vasconcellos name."
"You're still here," said Heather.
"I was 11 at the time, but even at such a young age, that leaves an impression on you that does not go away with time," said Countess de Vasconcellos, "I could never find the heart to marry. It seemed so pointless to continue something that should have died out long ago."
"So why the change in heart now?" asked Heather.
"A recent discovery about my family's Templar history," said the Countess, "It is...a bit too complicated to get into right here. But it gave me reason enough to want to preserve my family's history longer. And you are trying to restore history here as well, sí?"
"So why the Pyrenean Ibex?" asked Heather, "Did they once roam your family's lands? Are they on your family crest"
"No, the bucardo were beasts of the mountains. My family's estate is on the Mediterranean Coast. Our crest is a winged horse," said the Countess, "But your goal to revive the bucardo coincides with my desire to revive my family line. Can I offer no less?" She chuckled and said, "Besides, I was born under Capricorn. It seems apropos."
Heather mentally ran through what she knew about the Greek zodiac. She didn't have a perfect memory for details, but she at least had the sense of when each sign was in effect. "That means your birthday is soon, right?" asked Heather.
"In less than three weeks, on the 6th of January," said the Countess with a small smile, "I think I shall have a better attitude on that day than I have in a long while."
Just then, Dr. Stein walked in and saw the two of them. "Ah, Señora de Vasconcellos, we've been waiting for you," he said.
The Countess turned to him and nodded, "I am ready to assist with reviving the Pyrenean Ibex."
"Very well," said Dr. Stein, "If you'll just follow me to a room where you may undress-"
"¡Absolutamente no! I will not disrobe for strangers," said the Countess hotly.
"It's a lot more comfortable to change without your clothes becoming too small on you," said Heather.
"Well, it may not be a problem here," said Dr. Stein, "The ibex is a smaller animal than a human so I don't think she's likely to change in size much. I suppose we could even do it right here."
"Then we may as well get started," said the Countess before sitting on a chair.
"I think you'll want to remove your shoes first," said Heather, "Your new hooves aren't going to fit them anymore." The Countess nodded at that and leaned down to unlace her shoes, though she was noticeably grimacing with discomfort. "Here, let me," said Heather, kneeling down. She very carefully picked at the knots with her claws. While the Countess wasn't going to need the shoes after this, she doubted she'd want them clawed off.
"You are a dutiful nieta, aren't you?" asked the Countess.
Heather took a moment to process what the word meant before saying, "My grandma had arthritis too. You're a lot like her. Well, before she became a dinosaur and got drunk with youth." Maybe it was a bit unkind, but sometimes Heather had trouble reconciling the image of Effie, the sweet but stern grandmother who raised her, and Tyra, the shameless anthro dinosaur who performing at a strip club.
"Cherish your youth while you still have it," said the Countess, "You won't have a chance to have it again." Heather nodded at that before removing the shoes and socks.
Dr. Stein prepped the two needles with the Pyrenean Ibex strain of the virus. "This shouldn't take too long. The DNA was relatively fresh," he said before rolling up the Countess's sleeve. The Countess didn't even flinch as she was injected.
The changes soon became noticeable. Patches of brown fur was starting to appear on the Countess's skin. Since she was still wearing her dress, it was hard to determine the progression. It did become noticeable when her fingernails darkened and thickened. The cloven nature of a goat's hooves made her changing fingers not as hard to flex as some of the other ungulates. Her feet stretched out as it narrowed, the toes hardening and moving closer together to form proper hooves. Though her tail wasn't visible because of the dress, they could see where her back was bulging.
As the changes went over her face, there were signs of her returning youth. Wrinkles smoothed over before fur covered them. Her worn teeth became brighter and stronger as they adjusted for a pure herbivore diet. The dimness in her eyes faded as the pupils became rectangular. As curling horns grew out of her head, the silver hair darkened until it was back to a shiny black. Her faced pushed out into a hircine muzzle as her ears elongated.
When the changes stopped, Countess de Vasconcellos was unrecognizable asides from her dress and necklace. Instead of an old Spanish woman, she was now an anthro ibex, clearly much younger than she used to be. Her fur was very much like a deer's in color and was already long for the winter. Her horns were shorter than Heather were expecting, though they still stood out on her head.
Heather helped the Countess stand up. She was a bit wobbly on her new hooves at first, but she soon adjusted. After all, ibexes had very good senses of balance. The Countess walked over to a mirror and looked herself over. "Madre de Dios, I look better as a cabra than I thought," she said in surprise, her voice still rich, but no longer as quaking with age. She reached up and undid her hair bun. A shake of her head allowed her black locks to fall to her shoulder blades. "My hair is as silky as I remember it," she said proudly before noticing that her dress stretched out more in the front than before. "But I don't remember being this gifted before," she said, feeling her chest.
"Well, Animalians are better endowed," said Heather, indicating her own chest for emphasis, "Just be glad you're not a milk goat." From what little Heather has seen, goats weren't as buxom as the cows, but they weren't small-chested either.
"No, I am much wilder than that," said the Countess, peering at herself, "I look good for someone about to turn 90 in about a fortnight. I almost look like a faun now, don't I?"
"Well, females weren't as distinctly marked as the males and didn't have as large horns," said Dr. Stein, "I understand that were mistaken for deer at a distance."
The Countess rolled her eyes and said, "Not fawn, faun. Like a satyr"
"I think the proper term here is 'satyress'," said Heather, "You do look pretty good, Irena."
The Countess turned to give Irena a stern look. If she felt any instinctual fear towards the larger predator, she hid it well. "I don't think we're familiar enough to be on a first-name basis, señorita." She glanced over at Heather's incomplete posters and said, "But maybe after you've done my portrait, we might be."
"I haven't done a portrait in a long time," said Heather.
"I think it would be good practice for you," said the Countess, "Certainly better than spending all your talent on advertisements."
Heather smiled. Countess de Vasconcellos seemed more at ease with herself than before. Perhaps the sudden rush of youth hasn't happened yet, but Heather was glad to have someone to talk to in a more grandmotherly sense.