Amy looked at her striped arms and thick paws. The pattern was disturbingly familiar. "Mmmrrry tag...had strrripes."
Lina didn't immediately understand. Her memories were jumbled. It was hard to think. Her brain was firing thoughts in little fragments. Their tags. Her tag. Dog bone. Finally, it became clear.
"These collarrrrs," she said. Her thick claws grabbed at the leather and tried pulling, but the collar was on tight, and it was too tough to rip. Amy grasped with her own collar, specifically the buckle, but her paw-like hands were too thick to perform the delicate task of unbuckling the tight leather. If it were only a little looser, or her fingers a little thinner.
Lina's struggle to remove her collar, combined with the slowness of her thoughts, grew her frustration to new heights. "*GROWL!* This is yourrr fffault! You picked these collarrrrs!" Lina slowly stood on her hind legs, hunching slightly and flexing her claws. She shook off the tattered remains of her clothing.
Amy was taken aback by Lina's aggressive posture. Her mind began shouting instinctual reactions like "guard" and "run." She tried to suppress those thoughts. "Lina...calm dowwrrrn."
"Change me back!" Lina snarled, stepping closer.
Amy began backing up and sidestepping carefully. Lina turned to follow, and the two performed a tense standoff rotation. Both girls were responding to new instincts, Amy's telling her to defend herself, Lina's telling her to attack a threat. Neither had the luxury of wasting what little brain power they had left to find a reasonable way out of their situation.