You drop to all fours and your torso telescopes as your four legs shrink. You're not a blood hound, you're a
basset hound. Your ears drag along the ground, and you smell. You crinkle your nose, you smell everything. A
chaotic whirlpool of images swirl around your brain. Odors of people, of animals, of half-animal people, of
rotting food, and worse. Suddenly, you isolate one scent. It makes you happy. You wag your tail.