Fintan had spent the better part of the day attempting to make sense of his new circumstances, and, truth be told, he wasn't entirely certain he was doing a very good job of it. One moment, he'd been a junior engineer for Lock Rail, with a perfectly respectable future ahead of him, and the next he'd awoken in a strange woodland with four legs, a tail, and a dreadful lack of opposable thumbs. If that weren't enough to make a man question his own sanity, he'd also discovered that Ol' Willadeene Ann Boggs, the very same Witch Queen of West Virginia he'd heard tell had been swallowed whole by the earth, was alive and well enough to explain his predicament!

Well. Alive and well in the sense that she was now a wolf, too. Apparently, the world had gone and turned itself upside down while he'd been busy dying. Or perhaps he had died. He wasn't quite sure which possibility troubled him more.

Thankfully, the good lady had given him a clean bill of health, assuring him that he was perfectly fit to walk about and get himself some fresh air. And so, with his precious goggles perched atop his head and his russet fur still somewhat disheveled, Fintan had taken to exploring the unfamiliar castle corridors. There was a great deal to look at, after all! The architecture alone was enough to keep him occupied for hours, and he found himself wondering about the craftsmanship, the age of the stonework, and whether the place had been built by local hands or imported laborers.

He was so engrossed in examining a particularly interesting stretch of masonry that he nearly jumped out of his fur when a familiar voice rumbled behind him.

Fintan turned, olive-green eyes widening at the sight of his rescuer. Oh! It was the gentleman who'd so kindly gotten him down from that tree. Azon, wasn't it? He remembered the name, though he couldn't quite recall whether he'd gotten the pronunciation quite right.

Oh! Good evenin', sir! he greeted, offering the larger wolf a somewhat sheepish smile. Well, now, I reckon there's been a bit of a misunderstanding. Miss Willadeene's seen to me already, an' she's given me the all-clear. Says I'm fit as a fiddle, I am! He sat back on his haunches, his bushy tail curling neatly around his paws. The goggles shifted a little as he tilted his head, and he instinctively reached up to adjust them before remembering, once again, that his paws were woefully ill-equipped for such a task. She told me I could get some fresh air, stretch my legs a spell, an' have a look around, long as I didn't go doin' anythin' foolish. He paused, ears twitching as he glanced down at his new limbs. Which, I reckon, is a mite difficult when I ain't entirely sure what constitutes foolishness round these parts.

His expression softened, and he gave a small, appreciative nod toward Azon.

But I do appreciate ya lookin' out fer me, sir. Truly, I do. Most folks wouldn't go outta their way t'help some strange fella dangling from a tree, an' I ain't likely t'forget it anytime soon.

Āzon