An old, weathered dark blue pick-up truck was parked outside the barn below which had not been there earlier. As the sun light faded and the fog rolled in, three men were quickly securing the doors and fence gates around the property before they ran into a smaller one story house and slammed the door behind them loud enough to be heard through the window.
You assumed no one was going out tonight with the fog around. "This can't happen every night," you chirped to yourself in your strange new voice. "They'd never get anything done."
With some effort, standing on your two short hind legs was possible when using your tail to help, but you found walking far easier on all fours with your wings mostly furled. You supposed the wings meant your new body was intended for flying more than walking, but the tiny room was certainly not large enough for that. Getting the door open without hands was also a challenge, but you eventually succeeded.
In the past, you had seen young dogs display reluctance when confronted with going down steps and now you understood why. Making your way down was a slow and careful process as you tried to coordinate your reshaped limbs and tail. The feeling of drafts of air against your bare underside was an unwelcome distraction to be ignored until you reached the ground floor.
An unfamiliar girl's voice commented, "She's adorable, Mister Callan!"
Startled, you let out a small shriek and looked around the living room. Your uncle was standing there as was the neighbor you had seen on the drive in. She was perhaps seventeen and was almost as tall as you had been before this change -- though a couple inches of height were from the brown cowboy boots. The blue denim jeans were snug and suggested a rather attractive figure. While the white t-shirt she was wearing was loose, the young woman had a bosom that was at least as well developed as yours. A cute, lightly freckled face with blond hair pulled back into a pony tail topped everything off.
Your uncle grunted. "Sorry, girl. This is Naomi, from the place next door. She'd come over to introduce herself, but now the fog's in." Your uncle turned back to Naomi. "Like I was sayin', you can stay in the guest room tonight."
"Sorry about that, Mister Callan. The fog's just riled tonight for some reason." Naomi turned to examine you with her blue eyes. "A wyvern, huh? A girl?"
You were too embarrassed to do much more than a squeak and felt completely mortified. There was no place to hide and you were not ready to try fleeing up the stairs.
Your uncle sighed. "Yes, darn it all. He... she got it but good. Probably three months. I was hopin' for some extra help this year, but..."
"You know what, Mister Callan? I can ask my brother to help you," Naomi offered brightly and pointed at you. "And I can take care of her. She can help herd the sheep we have until she gets better."
You manage to find your voice briefly to squeak out, "Um... what?!"
Your uncle frowned. "I dunno, Naomi. That's-"
"She can't wash herself. Do you really want to be the one bathing her, Mister Callan?" Naomi pointed out. "And, well, I came over because your nephew's arrival was the most interestin' thing to happen in a while. I'd still like to talk with her about the city and all."
The argument looked to be swaying your uncle. "Mmmm."
You were not entirely sure which would be worse -- being bathed like this by your uncle, or by this strange girl!
Naomi continued, "Besides, ..."