The night over Skara Brae was clear, and the Trammel moon was full. The "savage" was chased out of Trinsic, the warrior in the bloodied armor forced Ashanta to flee. He was not used to this land yet, and was not even certain how he came to be here in the first place. The man going on about Lycans and Undead and how they were illegal in his land. Foolishness. The animal speaking Bunny smelling man seemed nice enough, trying to communicate to him. These people were a strange bunch - with this Bunny man seeming to be sanest of them. Ashanta was frustrated, he was infuriated - he didn't mean to change, and such a forced shift caused his body to wrack with pain hours after the fact. He howled at the bloody armored man but still the man threatened him. Calling his hounds to attack Ashanta, and not wishing to harm the innocent animals merely obeying their captures commands - he fled north. He ran through the forests, avoiding the creatures and heading across the mountain range. The "savage" fled, across this strange land and as the hour grew late, he took shelter in a small peasant dwelling. Hiding in a far corner, he broke through the floor boards and made his way into a hole beneath the house. Here he would rest, recuperate from the shifting as his body shook. He was confused, he was in pain - and he was alone. This strange land, full of savages was much worse than the land he was used to. Breaking a few stray twigs and working up a campfire, the lone "savage" curled up in a ball to let his pain fade away through the night - dreams of howling at the moon and running free through the forest came to him; the pleasant scents of the forests and the land. He put the days encounter behind him.