Hvit rumbled low in his chest, and a deeply unsettling series of thoughts sprung to life in his mind. His gaze drifted away, studying the the room, and what he could see of the ones beyond it. Then they came full circle back to it's inhabitant. It may have been Hvit's troubled expression that gave it away early, but even if it did not, his next actions would.
"I am not."
As he spoke he gently lifted her from him, and the heat with in took a different form. It was now the heat of anger, slow and simmering, at how he could let himself be led this way. He was solitary for a reason. This entire journey had been rash and unfounded, and the consequences now were emotional casualties, probably on both sides, and a guilt that he could already feel sinking its hooks in his hide.
He pushed himself from the blankets and began stalking away when his shape changed. It wasn't a dragon whose form he took, but neither was it his humanoid shape. It was an amalgamation of them both, somewhere in between. Still on the smaller side, thank the gods for that, but he was tall. He had grown perhaps three or four more feet, now a towering behemoth, and his wings had grown larger. The skin that had been dusted with near invisible scales became harder and milky white where the scales had been predominant, his ribs, back, throat, forearms and shins. The pricked fingertips became true claws, and he grew small horns from the stubs on his scalp, horns that twisted and stabbed into the air, giving his height an extra foot-long boost. The skirt was now more a loincloth, and the cape no longer went to the floor. Strangest of all, a tail has sprouted, thin but long, and now snaked anxiously around his heels.
"I am not."
Again he said it, but this time he punctuated it by leaving, going down the path back through the treasure hoards.
