I was somewhat surprised when the troll woke up during my meal. I was buried deep inside its chest cavity, chewing my way through one of its lungs, when it began to wheeze and weakly thrash around. When I realized I had no way to break open its skull or rib cage, I had decided to eat my way through its abdomen to its vitals. With the flesh growing back as I ate it, this took a while, but the more of it I ate, the slower the wounds knitted themselves back together. My rear legs were already healthy and whole, though my tail still flopped limply behind me.

Whatever weak thrashing about the troll did, it did not hinder me as I continued to hollow out it’s chest cavity. Before too much time passed, I managed to reach the weakly pulsating lump of flesh that was the troll’s heart. After just a couple bites, it shuddered and then became still. I continued to eat.

By the time I finished picking the troll’s skeleton as clean as I could, the next day’s sun was already rising. Before sulking away, I glanced back longingly at the jumbled pile of bones. Normally, I’d eat those as well, but I simply couldn’t crack them.

Drowsy, but satisfied, I climbed a tree not far from the clearing, settled into a fork in the trunk as comfortably as I could, and dozed off. My tail still hadn’t healed, but I was confident all would be well after I’d rested.

Upon awaking, I felt better and stronger than ever. As I moved to climb down the tree, I instead tumbled to the ground gracelessly, landing on my back with a dull thud. The landing came as a bit of a shock, but I did not feel any pain. I took a moment to assess myself, and quickly realized why I had fallen. My body form had changed significantly while I was sleeping. For one, I was no longer a quadruped, I was now a biped. By my estimation, I now stood about a head taller than the human from yesterday. Still significantly smaller than the dire human, but a respectable height. My forelimbs were now proper arms with proper hands and fingers, though they were still tipped by wickedly sharp claws. My legs were long and powerful, and my feet looked much as the troll’s had, but with claws similar to the ones on my hands.

My scales had faded away, and instead I was covered with thick grey-brown skin, with swathes of bristly black hair. Sadly, my tail had withered away as well. Its venom glands weren’t nearly as potent as the ones in my fangs, but it had proven useful while I’d had it.

I spent some time testing out my new form, and getting used to its balance and movement. I was certainly stronger than I had been, and could still move and climb quickly. However, it would take some acclimation before I could move as lightly and silently as I had before.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Since it was still close by and I wanted to test out my newfound strength, I headed back to the bone pile. It had been knocked about and scattered by scavengers trying to get the few scraps off the bones that I’d overlooked. Worryingly, one of the femurs appeared to be broken in half by some creature which had eaten the marrow from inside.

I picked up the other femur and strained against it, trying to bend it, bite through it, or do anything at all to it. I’d already tried earlier and had with some effort had snapped a branch of similar thickness.

Shit, I thought. Whatever broke that other femur must have been insanely strong. I sniffed around it to take note of its peculiar scent, so I could be sure to avoid it in the future.

Failing to break the femur, I then began working my way down through smaller bones. Yep, nope. Except for the finger bones and some others of similar size, they still proved too difficult for me to break. Still, waste not want not. I absentmindedly devoured the smaller bones while an idea nagged at me.

When it was fighting the group, it had been wielding a good sized tree as a club. While the remaining femur was heavy, I could swing it around with one hand. Even better with two. It was nearly as long as one of my own legs, and about as thick as my ankles.

The idea of using a weapon pleased me, which was odd. I am never without a weapon. I waved aside the stray thought, and began practicing swinging the femur about. After I felt like I had grown proficient enough, I loped off through the forest, in search of prey to test it out on and feed upon.

The first trial run was an abject failure that left me cursing my stupidity. I was so intent on the prey as I snuck up, I failed to take my surroundings into account. A healthy sized boar was rooting through the foliage, and I hastily went for a roundabout horizontal swing, only to have my club resoundingly smack into the tree that was just outside arm's reach which I hadn’t paid attention to, well before it had built up much momentum. I rapped a fist against my forehead. Stupid.

Of course you can’t swing something like this around wildly. Especially in the denser parts of the forest. However, it could still be of use. Most of the branches were well up in the air, more than twice my current height. So, as long as I paid attention, I should be able to use a downward strike to clobber my prey.

This turned out to be a much more suitable way to use the club. When I finally located another animal, it was only a few hours from dusk. It was a large brown bear, but just a normal one, not a dire, and it was aware of my presence. It eyed me warily, then stood on its hind legs and roared at me, hoping to intimidate me. I charged forward and swung my club down on its head with all my strength and speed.

I suppose it hadn’t been expecting that, because it failed to react in time. The bone club came whistling down on the bear’s skull and struck with a crunch that pleased my ears. The bear teetered and fell, its skull crushed by that powerful blow.

I felt extra giddy about the hunt’s success. I would now be able to hunt even more efficiently, and grow stronger that much more quickly.

I made sure not to leave even a scrap of the bear behind.