Oh. Joy. It was snowing again.
Fitfully, Quentin paced back and forth across the halls of the shrine. His form changed with his state of mind--oh, it was a very nice snow! It was soft and powdery, and would no doubt make the skiiers happy. He was in human form then, and his boots squeaked sharply across the wet floor. Monks shot him dirty looks. But... what if the snow was
too heavy? What if he got snowed in? He could be stuck there for days!
Days! He'd never get home, and Grandma would get on his case, and you did not make a two-ton dinosaur angry... He morphed back into his Lucain form, and his claws went
click-click-click on the temple floor.
His tails lashed. His fingers twitched behind his back. No matter his form, Quentin was not a man at ease. If anyone came up behind him and so much as tapped him on the back, he'd probably wind up with his nails embedded in the ceiling.
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