The shape under the armor begins to squirm. First he tries backing out of the mail, then shaking it off. With some work, it falls away; the trousers, he steps away from, with only a little tripping and dragging.

He seems to realize, as he stands there, that he's no longer on two feet. A quick twist of his neck: Kate was right -- the wound is gone. (And -- he wags it -- there is a tail!) Experimentally, he sniffs the air.

There's no disguising him: he's the same red-brown-dark color as his hair, and just as shaggy. The eyes are the same too. He turns back to Kate as he searches her out, every inch of him alert.