I felt my jaw stretching and stretching outward. The bones made a slight grinding sound as my small, weak human mouth became the powerful, crushing jaw of the wolf. My human mouth and teeth could barely cut through a tough steak. The wolf jaw and teeth could tear the throat out of a living, struggling deer. My gums itched as my teeth grew longer.

The rest of the morph continued. My knees reversed direction. My legs grew smaller. Rough pads replaced my feet. The fur on my body grew long and rough and grayish in color. I fell forward onto my front legs, no longer able to stand. The wolf's instincts began to surface, but I had done this morph before, so I could handle them easily. Then the wolf's senses came on, replacing my human perception.

And the ears were nothing, compared to the sense of smell. Let me just put it this way -- in terms of smell, all humans are blind. We smell nothing. Maybe we smell a flower if it's right under our nose, or a chocolate cake baking in the oven. But we are the morons of smell. Wolves are the geniuses of smell. You have no idea. No idea at all what it is like to have that wolf nose.

When you put it all together in your head -- the sense of smell and the hearing -- it was as if the entire world around you was crawling and seething and exploding with life.

<Cool,> Marco said.

I agreed.