“You want to show him?” Melvin said.
Reynolds nodded.
He stepped to the center of the mat and closed his eyes, breathing slow and steady the way they had taught him.
The change came gradually.
Not the violent surge of instinct he remembered from the convoy night. This was steadier now, guided by intention instead of necessity.
His hands shifted first. Bones thickened subtly beneath the skin. Fingers shortened as fur spread across the backs of them, smoothing as he concentrated. Nails extended into blunt claws that caught briefly in the light before he flexed them and let them settle.
His posture changed next, shoulders rolling forward as muscle redistributed under his shirt in a way that looked increasingly natural.
When Reynolds opened his eyes again they held more amber than brown.
Melvin nodded. “Better.”
Mac stepped forward a pace. “How’s it feel?”
“Clear,” Reynolds said. “Not crowded like before.”
Mac nodded once. “Good.”
Reynolds flexed his hands again. “Still takes effort.”
“It will,” Mac said. “For a while.”
Melvin pushed off the wall. “Show him the rest.”
Mac watched Reynolds a moment longer. “That’s solid work. Cleaner than most manage this early.”
Reynolds held the partial shift without faltering.
Mac’s tone didn’t change. “But partial control only tells us so much. Council wants to know exactly what you are. Not guesses. Means you take it as far as you can hold it.”
Reynolds nodded.
Melvin’s attention sharpened. “Same as before. Don’t rush it.”
Reynolds stepped back toward the center of the mat.
Mac lifted a hand slightly. “Hold up.”
Reynolds paused, looking back at him.
Mac nodded toward his clothes. “You’re going to want those off first.”
Reynolds blinked. “Oh.”
A faint flush crept up his neck as the realization hit. He pulled his shirt over his head, folding it quickly and setting it off to the side before working off his boots. “First time I’ve stripped in front of two officers,” he muttered under his breath.
Melvin snorted softly from the wall. “Relax,” he said. “We’re fairly sure you’re about to turn into a hyena. Modesty’s not going to save your clothes.”
Reynolds shook his head, finishing with his belt and stepping back onto the mat.
This time the change went deeper.
Bone shifted beneath the skin. Muscle redistributed into heavier lines as his balance lowered and moved forward. Fur spread thicker along the neck and back, the coloring resolving into muted desert tones, pale sand broken by darker striping that softened his outline.
