I didn't sleep that night. I couldn't sleep; my whole body was on fire. Even my bones were aching. I didn't even know they could do that. I was expecting some payback, given what had happened the last time I'd tried working out, but I wasn't expecting it to be so bad. Then again, perhaps not sleeping was a good thing? At least I could be sure no-one was sneaking into my cell while I slept and doing anything to me. Although if they did need to, they could just pump in anaesthetic through the vents. It had abated a bit by the morning, leaving me utterly exhausted and in desperate need of sleep, but the sound of breakfast arriving got me out of bed regardless. I was hungry, and I could nap later.

With the exception of my face, I no longer had any human skin left. After the accelerated burst of mutation, my arms were fully feathered, my legs and feet were fully scaled, and my torso was coated in a downy layer of sky-blue fluff. Even my hands had turned dry and cracked and would presumably be breaking out in scales shortly.

I pondered taking another shower, given that it had been a few days, but I had no clue how I was supposed to maintain feathers. That's not really the sort of thing that we pick up naturally when children learn how to wash themselves. Well, no harm in asking. "How..." I screeched, before stopping, the shrill, high-pitched noise coming from my throat catching me by surprise. I took a few deep breaths before trying again. "How am I supposed to look after these feathers? Is the shower safe to use?"

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It was getting harder to form words, and the noise coming out of my mouth was little more than enunciated screeching. Could harpies speak? Could any monsters speak? I hadn't heard anything about that, but since they weren't intelligent, it didn't seem likely... Damn; I didn't want to lose my voice. Not that I was using it much right now, but at the back of my mind I was still thinking things like 'when I get out of here'.

Lunch came with a sarcastic note that if monsters struggled with getting wet, then a single rainstorm would clear the misty woods for good. That was new; previous messages had all been completely professional. I didn't think my question was stupid; the shower was a lot higher pressure than simple rain. Was it written by someone different? Or had I annoyed them somehow? I hadn't noticed a decline in my meal quality, despite what they'd threatened. Maybe they didn't like me hastening my transformation after all? It was my first glimpse of hope in this hell.

In that case, there was nothing for it but to push even harder.