You're soon at the base of the thin lake spanning the valley. It'll take at least an hour to hike around, and some areas look pretty difficult without a trail cutting through. Inspite of your hunger you have high spirits and decide to swim across. You've gone further to get the swimming merit badges, and that was in freezing water. The lake's jade color tells you that this one is deep, and probably cold too, but if you can't swim as a fox then at least you'll find that out in the shallow water.
You walk on your hind legs out to where the water's between your knees and raised ankles. You feel odd as your tail wags and gets the end soaked. Your thought is rudely interupted when you suddenly lose balance and fall chest first in two feet of water. Back on all fours you quickly raise your head out and gasp, the temperature will be fine and you feel bouyant enough. You start dog paddling across, your head staying just above the water. The lakes top layer is fairly warm and there's no current pushing you in any direction. The lake's only a hundred or so feet across, and your vulpine body seems perfectly suited for swimming swiftly.
Half way across you recall the story of the gingerbread man and the fox that swam him across a stream to gobble him up. Given your own transformation encountering a sentient pastry dosen't seem out of place. You're not hungry enough to eat something that'll talk to you though. But what if it was sitting on your nose? With a flash of your muzzle you seize a dozing fish. It flops around madly but soon dies between your tightening jaws. "That was really disgusting, but right now I'm ready to risk eating this thing raw" you think to yourself. You paddle a little slower now that you can't breath through your mouth, but soon reach the opposite shore.
You drop the limp fish several feet from the water's edge and flop yourself down on a large flat granite slab. Water pours from you like a soaked rag, you wan't be drying off soonat this rate. You move your paws/hands over your drenched fur pushing out what you can. It is now you get a true sense of how thin you really are; you feel all your ribs and other bones, the rest of you is lean mussle devoid of fat. You squeeze at least a litre out of you tail, which now looks like an otter's. You try giving yourself a shake and cover a surprising area with water droplets, "should've done that first".
You walk over to your fish, you've never cleaned a fish in you life but you think you remember the steps. You look for an old beer can or bottle to gut it, no luck, looks like no one has ever even been to this lake. Hopefully this means the fish was just stupid and not diseased. The rocks aren't sharp enough and neither are your claws, which you recall are probably for digging. Losing patience you run the trout's underbelly over a canine tooth, well now they're all canine teeth, and flick the guts out with your fingers. You peel back the skin, inefficiently taking a lot of the meat with it, and suck off all the flesh you can. Staying on your haunches you go back over the skin licking off the reaming fish meat and then licking your muzzle. Your face and paws will smell like fish for a while in spite of rinsing them off. You lay back down on your rock and let the sun dry you, you're hungry but you know you'll live. You quickly tire and give in to an afternoon nap. Your name is Nick, and in another odd thought correlation recall that a winged fox in D&D is called a waternix. You feel the heat of the afternoon sun and soon doze off.