You're in your dragon form, The swamp is thick and sticky this evening, muck and grime seeping in between your scales, botflies buzzing over your form. What's worse, the sluggishly bleeding wound in between your wings refuses to close. The area feels hot and inflamed. And the damned hunter(?) following you is here again. You bare your teeth and snarl, watching as he flinches. "Relax, relax." he coos carefully. he keeps trying to look at your back. You tense and rumble out a warning bellow.