Dawn's rosy tendrils dared to wake Doom from her fitful sleep. She lingered in limbo of the limitless inbetween; she could go either way but chose to sink back into the world of dreams. Sighing contently, even the wicked needed their rest. Her dreams' dark tunnel gave way to one of her timeless favorite delights: hunting.
She soared above the unworthy and caught sight of her prey. Diving in she adjusted her flight pattern so the stinger was ready. Proud and defiant, she angled for the best descent. She dropped past the clouds of the trees and as she started her fall through the fog her pointed rear shifted to plumes rapidly enough to throw Doom out of her trajectory, slamming into the nearby trunks. Once-feeble forelimbs melted to her body and she shrieked to the sky the rage of her failed hunt. Caught in momentum's tumble, wings no longer diaphanous came up to protect the body shielding her from further damage. Stopping only when she collided with a tangled network of roots, she stared dazed at the ground before fully coming to. Within a few seconds she went through the entire gamut of emotions before settling on puzzlement.
Her mind felt fuzzy, disoriented and untested. It was peculiar to know that a subtle shift had descended down on her thoughts. She no longer thought in the detached way of the Wasp nor of the great Mares of lore. The difference was more acute this time. Her muscle and thought processes were sore from disuse. Slowly she blinked and realized the buzzing that usually accompanied her discontent was not there. Odd. Different. But also so right. Peeling wings back she peered down at her newly elongated form in a scientific way. Her new body was perfunctory and perfect. She intuitively knew it was made for killing. With a limbless body to contort and sneak into the tightest corners, no pesky limbs would catch on a stray branch to announce her presence nor hinder her plans. She flapped her wings and rose a few feet. Strong but skinny wings supported her body until she hovered at the water's edge to peer at the form her body had taken shape in. As she flitted, the sound of bones was in the wind and she craned her neck to see the new crest she had. And those delightful fangs were tipped for what they did best. Flashing white, she bared her teeth in her trademark smile. Delight, happiness and pure joy radiated from her being. This was a good dream.
And when she woke, it was even better for the ever errant Spindrift was curled around her new form. Not affectionate by nature, she found the warmth of the other feathered serpent very welcoming now that her heat left her body more readily. In this new form, she slithered and sawed the swamp until giving into her preferred flight inclinations. With the sun at her back she dove and felt the satisfying give of bone. Awash in blood she wore the red fluid as a badge to commemorate her new serpentine form. A slow rustling from the base of her spine ascended the backbones until her tail vibrated back and forth in elation. She laughed as only the cold-blooded or black-hearted could. It was time to find Gloom; time and thoughts of herself kept slipping by.