You think about your situation for a minute. All you would have to do it to eat a fish and this body would become permanent; you wouldn’t have to worry about getting a job or education or paying bills or about any other human concern ever again. But staying here, as an animal would also mean you’d probably never see your family or friends again, yes you could somehow find a way out but what is that becomes impossible once the change is permanent? You decide not to risk it and begin walking back towards the entrance.
You don’t get far before you start to feel guilty; you don’t want to simply leave the female there. You turn around and walk back to her.
“I don’t want to leave you here like this,” you say.
“Thank you the sentiment but I can never be human again, even if you took me with you I would stay like this.” She responds.
“Wouldn’t it be better then staying here? You be stay at my place, sort of like a pet,” you say, hopping to encourage her to leave.
“The thought is appealing, believe me. But if I leave the park I will start to age at a rate normal for an animal. As long as I stay here, I am practically ageless.” She says.
“But how do you know?” you ask.
“I was changed almost 30 years ago, much in the same way you are. I haven’t aged a day since, either has anyone else in the park. If I were to leave, as long as I stayed away I would resuming age at a normal rate for a raccoon.” She says.
“But I don’t want to leave you, I know it sounds strange but I feel this bond with you. But even if you did start to age at a normal rate, you seem pretty young. You could still live a long life and I could help to make it a very fun life, sort of a quality over quantity.” You say, try to get her to come you.
“Thank you for your offer, but life here isn’t that bad. In fact it’s good. Sure it’s simple but once you get used to it, it’s peaceful and fun, it lets you enjoy and appetite the more basic fundamentals of life and existence. But most of all, there are a lot of other racoons here that used to be human, we have each other and have become a family for each other. The truth is that after all of this time, this place is my home. I don’t think of the outside world as home anymore.” She says. Her statement both comforts you and saddens you at the same time. You are happy that she is happy, but you don’t want to leave her behind, but have little choice if you want to be human again.
You nod you head and say goodbye and begin to walk away. You don’t get far before you feel a nudging on your back; you turn around and see her looking at you sadly.
“Wait, before you go, maybe there is something I can do for you. Something to remember me by” she says.
“What’s that?” you ask.