The macaws and toucans never seemed to shut up. Their cries echoed through the jungle canopy almost constantly. A human might find it annoying, along with the humidity, the insects, and the dimness. The sun was shining brightly (some would say harshly) overhead, but the shelter of the massive trees filtered the sunlight a great deal. It was sort of like living under a neverending umbrella.

Not that the monkey knew what an umbrella was.

The monkey didn't care about the humidity, or the light levels. She was used to it. She liked the noise, truth be told. The colorful birds were a natural alarm system, warning of approaching danger if they fell silent. Noise meant the coast was clear. Usually.

Up here, high in these multi-story tall trees, the monkey was safe. Predators stalked the undergrowth of the jungle floor. Sure, some could climb, but they were too large and heavy to reach her on the thinner branches. The canopy was a sanctuary.

It was also a feast. Fruit and berries and nuts abounded. The various insects were also tasty, when she could catch them in her little paws.

Life here was simple. The monkey dangled from a branch by her tail, swinging back and forth to amuse herself as she munched on some sort of goblin fruit. It sort of resembled a banana, except it was blue and had a pebble-like texture on it's skin. And the edible portion tasted like something the monkey couldn't remember, but definitely not like a banana.

The monkey thought simple thoughts. What to do after eating? Nap. She couldn't quite conceive of a time after nap. Her mind struggled with the concept of a future behind five minutes from now. Animals lived in the moment, even the most intelligent animals.

Something was wrong.

It was quiet.

It wasn't supposed to be quiet.

Quiet was bad.

The birds had shut up. The whole jungle was dead silent.

The monkey knew what it was. Somewhere in her bestial brain, there was the thought. Something someone had told her once.

If it is silent, then He is on the hunt.

The monkey was very suddenly terrified.

Shivering, she quickly scanned about. Where was the danger? Where was He?

Ice water shot up her spine. The monkey could feel the eyes on her back. Predatory eyes. Hungry eyes.

RUN!

----------------

Sonnie awoke with a start. She jumped into a sitting position in her bed, with a loud gasp. A hand went to her chest. She was breathing heavily. Her skin was damp with a layer of sweat. And her jaws ached.

At the foot of her bed, a mutt of a dog looked at her with loyal concern. Fugly tilted his head and whined softly. Sonnie, after looking all over her apartment in her brief panic, relaxed her shoulders and turned her attention to her dog. She smiled reassuringly. "It's okay, Fug. Just a... a bad dream." Her teeth felt odd when she spoke.

If only it had been merely a dream. She wasn't human. Dreams meant something to Changelings like herself. That was no figment of her subconscious. It was a memory. The Beast was certain of that much. The jungle panorama felt too familiar. An old memory, one she had forgotten for some time, buried under a fog of Glamour. It was a memory of her time in Arcadia. The Screaming Jungle.

It was a warm summer night. The TV in the living room was on. It was always on. The Steepscrambler hated silence. Now she remembered why.

A hand went to her cheek as she wondered about the dream. Why was her jaw sore? Concerned, Sonnie slipped out of bed and wandered into her small bathroom. Flicking on the light, she peered at herself in the mirror over the sink. Curious, she pulled her lips back to take a look inside her mouth.

Sonnie gasped again.

Her teeth had changed. The canine teeth, all four of them, were longer and sharper than before. Like fangs.

Some breeds of monkey had such teeth. Now so did she.

The Beast had long had simian features. The gold/yellow eyes didn't bother her. The hand-like feet were at times inconvenient, and weird-looking, but she was mostly used to them. The long tail, she liked. It was cute and useful.

Now fangs? Why? Was it connected to the resurfaced memory?

Something Rhodes had once said came to mind. Was this similar? Had she, too, strengthened her connection to the Wyrd? Was this surge in her fae nature bringing her flashbacks of Arcadia and changes to her mien?

Dressed in just her panties and a tank top, she took a moment to check the rest of her body. Nothing else was different. No fur, except on her tail. She was glad for that. Sonnie didn't relish the idea of having to shave her legs that often.

Leaning with her hands on the sink, the Beast stared at her reflection.

A little more monkey, a little less human. What would be next? Her nose? Her ears?

She sighed and wondered at what point her old face would be gone completely.