Chapter 3: Crawling

70cm long with an extra 40 with the tail. On all fours reaching just below the knees of the average man. Comparing myself to the new world, I was able to roughly make out my dimensions. I was pretty big for someone who had been alive for 10 days at best.

Whatever had happened to make me burp and fart at the same time, a feat worthy of the history books, had to be figured out later. After passing out and waking up before sunset, I had dragged my body back to my little burrow and spent all my time awake devouring most of the organ soup I had left. Over the course of a day, I drained my 2 week supply of bug brunch, down to 3 days. From what I could tell, my body didn't change in any way, at least on the outside. If it changed on the inside was anyones guess.

Spending an entire day eating and another resting  I picked myself up, ready to make my way back outside. The villain responsible for my previous traumatizing experience sat in a corner of my home.

Just sitting there.

Menacingly.

Although I was compelled to let the thing surf the wind for as far as it could, the last scene before closing my eyes made me keep it around. If what I was thinking was true, the feather might provide insight to questions I'll have. Also, despite its actions, it was still a sight for sore eyes.

Giving it a final curse, and maybe kicking some dirt towards it in spite, I make my way up the tunnel and quickly arrive at the crime scene. Though it was smaller than I remembered it, looking closely I could make out a patch of ever so slightly darkened rock. The suspect responsible for this was me, which lead to a single conclusion.

I was a fire breathing lizard. Damn that's cool.

I started hopping around and making almost cute growling noises. Dashing from left to right in pure glee. I crouch down and pretend to brace myself to withstand a heavy load, my tail pointing towards the ceiling. I open my mouth and in a wheezing sigh try to recreate the sensation from a few days prior. However, all that comes out is a dry cough.

Everyday I cursed at fate for not giving me a 'Dragon for Dummies' guide. 

Maybe it was a circumstantial thing? Maybe it's only possible to blow fire out of both ends to balance things out? Before I could overthink things, I retrieve the only thing capable of giving me answers and made sure to grip it with my tail, hoping the feather didn't make it start twirling in circles, carrying me off into the sun.

Holding the feather in the light of the sun, I observe to see if it changed in any way, shape, or form. It still had that large deep black mane. The pale shaft showing its worth even in the blinding tropical sun. But even looking at it from every angle I couldn't discern any notable differences aside from the fact that it was a bit dirty. Even the previous mind prickling sensation was subdued to a subtle tickle, only being able to feel it when it's an inch away from my face.

So much for answers.

With no other options and a scowl on my face, I begin with a quick lick to the side of the feather. When nothing happens, I softly chew on the tip of it with my gums. Still nothing. Then, I bring the soft but firm feather to my throat, tickling myself to bring out any reaction. Aside from an instinctive leg kicking and tail wagging, no clues to flame making were found. I then, using my tail, run the feather along both of my still pathetic wings, only to receive a full body shiver, finding out the hard way that my wings were incredibly sensitive.

I spend a few more minutes tracing every inch of my body with the feather, not receiving any wanted reactions. With the exceptions of my nostrils, eyes and behind, three places the feather would never be stuck into, I ready myself to place the feather back in my mouth. Focusing my best as I place the feather in my mouth, having it stick out from either sides of my lips, the only thing I could confirm was the bland taste. I sat there for a few minutes, drowning the poor thing in saliva before spitting it out.

'Well, this sucks.'

The feather now proving to be nothing more than a prop, was stashed away after letting it dry. I had been excited, imagining a scene of a colossal dragon, whose image blends into the dark of the night, spewing flames that can melt metal. While the scene didn't leave my mind, the fact that flames weren't some built in, all in one dragon package was disheartening. That or my human mind was inhibiting some basic instincts a being of my species would normally have.

The only thing I hate more than a difficult problem, is a difficult problem with no understandable components.

Nothing about this made sense. I mean, if I was able to do it once, surely I should be able to do it again right? There's no way I have to go through that traumatizing experience every time I want some heat right? Evolution wouldn't do this to me right? Doesn't this mean this really isn't Earth?

Out of frustration, I let out the loudest roar I could muster, which was unsurprisingly quiet and adorable, also leaving me with a coarse throat. Just walk it off, I thought to myself. With my training montage finished, I set my eyes towards the forest. The thirst for adventure rises in me as my gaze passes the cave I literally crawled out of, onto the lush forest beyond. Even now I could hear the chirping of birds and the insects singing there songs. But my more neutral side also knowing that I'll quickly starve to death if I don't start hunting. So with a combination of curiosity and desperation, I navigate my way down the rocky mountain side. While the slope wasn't very steep, climbing down on all fours gave me newfound appreciation for my orientation.

Reaching the base of the mountain only leaves a few meters of bare grass before reaching the wild greens. Reaching the entrance of the forest, I take a deep breath of fresh air and lower my body as close to the moist ground as possible. I consider staying here and getting used to moving as fast as I could, running without tripping, jumping from tree to tree. But that was pretty boring.

As they say, the best teacher is danger.

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I push into the dense mixture of vines and moss, pushing further and further in. I coordinate my less than stellar leg movement to not crunch any dead leaves. I ensure my tail follows a streamline path directly behind me. My head shifting from one direction to the other, capturing any flickering leaf or moving branch. While my field of view was much broader than in my past life, I still had blind spots. I keep my ears perked, hearing the howling of the winds along with my own breathing. I remained as quiet as possible, doing my best to not make any sudden movement.

I had watch a few documentaries about nature. All I knew about jungles was that it was one of the most ferocious ecosystems in the world. It sounded exactly like the concrete jungles I used to live in, I just hope I get lucky in my first few ventures.

Sniffing around and pushing over rocks, I try to find any insect hot spots, maybe even a bug's bachelor party? The only thing I would be able to crush without teeth would be soft shells and fruits. Though my omnivorous status was in question, I wanted to doubt that a fire breathing flying death machine would be such a picky eater.

Eventually, after a few hours of searching around, I come across a rotting log resting on the ground, overgrown with moss and mushrooms. The rotting brown wood giving off a foul, humid stench. The mushrooms were splashed in bright colors, some were striped in multiple. Many had the traditional mushroom head shapes while others oddly had the shape of upside down pyramids. The moss, was, well moss. It also came in a variety of colors but were just patches of plant mass.

What the hell is a rainbow doing in the middle of the woods?

Most of my journey was just green and brown, so seeing this patch of colors was fascinating. I inch my way to one end of the hollow log, curious to see what it housed. What greets me however are a metric ton of ants, there shells painted in the same colors as the mushrooms and moss. The red colored ones resembled the red of a warning sign, dangerous. The blue ones had a much darker shade compared to the backdrop of the sky. The ones in pale green seemed like chopped lettuce, ready to plate and serve. Ants in the light brown shade seemed like perfectly fried chicken bites. The colors the ants lacked were the purple shaded blacks along with the golden tainted whites.

If I somehow managed to gather the living skittles in once fell swoop, they'd probably make a decent meal. But like with almost every living organism, I knew that messing with these tic-tacs would get me killed or at least sent home with a few missing pounds. Much less messing with ones in a world where lizards spit fire.

Suppressing the urge to pick some of the colorful fungi, I slowly back away, ensuring I don't swallow a lifetimes worth of poison.

Always the pretty things.

Walking away from the living warning sign, I give it a last glance before re-engaging cat stalking posture. I continue scavenging for food, not placing my luck on ever finding an unclaimed corpse. I sniff and sniff about, but I slowly realize that while my nose is far more sensitive then when I was human, I lack the instincts to identify a single scent from a bundle and make out its origins. All the scents are jumbled together into an incoherent mess.

Relying on other senses, I come across some rather ordinary looking and, much more importantly, ordinarily sized insects. Beetles, cockroaches, worms and a few others. Squishing and eating a few dozen of them left me only half full, leaving a hole in my stomach as much as it leaves a hole in my pride.

I've basically completely accepted my current life at this point but damn, when will I find a very conveniently placed taco stand?

Grumbling to myself about the less than tasty food, I start walking in the direction of my home. Or at least, the direction I thought it was towards.

No wait, it was this tree not that other one. Umm, which way was the rainbow again?

There was no way right? Of course there is.

The massive trees that valiantly stretched towards the sky suddenly cast over an overbearing presence. The vines no longer seeming like fun makeshift swings, instead a sleeping beast ready to chain me down. The branches and leafs that worked to keep the blazing sun's light to a gentle tap, slowly forming into the barbed wire of a cage.

Rule number 2 of reincarnation, Gooogle Maps isn't a thing, so keep a map at hand.... Fuck.

My breathing becomes a bit panicked, but only for a moment. In the midst of my realization, I see the thick foliage rustle around only to reveal a towering 2 meter tall, pale green, preying mantis. Its large eyes moving about until it locks onto me. The creature, although massive, seemed thin. Its body streamlined and neat. It didn't have any bristles along its legs nor any jagged spikes running down the arms.

The most striking feature however, were its scythe shaped front legs. Not for its deadly looking blade, not even for the soft glow they gave off. But for its familiar shape, and texture. If I had the vocal cords to properly laugh with, I would. With a feral grin, and a healthy dose of primal lust, I look at the mere bug's front limbs like a dog looking at raw meat.

Oh how nostalgic. So this is where the premium grade pacifiers were harvested.

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