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	The rogue let out a soft growl as she sniffed wildly to pick up the scent's origin, and suddenly she darted a meager fifty yards away and pounced, crashing down atop a completely unexpecting rabbit.

	Moments later, Carson slowed as his granddaughter came into view once more.  The elder worgen stood himself on two feet as he approached carefully, uncertain of what exactly was going through her mind.

	Starla's naked chest heaved as if struggling to catch her breath.  The small rabbit was clutched in her clawed hands, frozen in fear, but very much alive.  The worgeness sat on her rump as a human would, buck naked and apparently hesitating as to what to do with the creature.  It wasn't until she noticed Carson that her head jerked in his direction, the feral instinct fading from her ice blue eyes.  "Grandpa, I... think I...."  A small puff of mist shrouded Starla and faded away to reveal a brunette human woman in her place, her pale skin streaked with dirt.  Seeing his chance, the rabbit bolted from her smaller hands and disappeared into the underbrush.

	Carson quickly walked up to his granddaughter, and without skipping a beat he yanked off his tattered pants.  "Here," he rumbled and tenderly did his best to wrap the aged fabric around her for a semblance of modesty.

	Starla's mind was a whirl of confused instincts as the feral urge waned, leaving her feeling exceptionally vulnerable and torn.  Slowly she looked to her grandfather, grateful at first for the cover, but just as quickly struck with the realization that he, too, was now naked.  Carson's worgen physique was particularly muscular with much of his once-black fur streaked with heavy strokes of shiny silver.  The male that Starla had pounced on before was purely human, and as such she'd never seen a naked worgen male before.  A pair of fur-covered, tennis ball-sized stones hung low and loose between his toned thighs, but the space above it was devoid of an expected manhood, replaced by a loose-skinned sheath.  The closer he got, however, a small nub of bright red color could be seen poking out from within his sheath.  Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson when she realized she'd been staring, and all she could think to do was curl up in a ball and cover her face in quiet shame.

	Without warning, the feeling of Carson's furred arms came in contact with the young woman's bare back and legs.  A soft grunt left his lips as the seasoned grandfather lifted Starla into his arms and carried her through the thick trees, entirely unconcerned with nudity for either of them.  "Relax," he rumbled softly.  "That was a fantastic start."

	Starla exhaled sharply before she dared to peek up at him through spread fingers.  "S-seriously?"

	The male worgen's one eye did not look back down at her, focusing on their path.  "Yes.  You did not deny your instincts, both feral and human.  You thrive in the wild and in your natural state, and at the same time your humanity naturally prevented you from taking radical actions."

	The rogue sniffled softly.  "I... I really like animals," she confessed.  "I would never hurt one unless I was truly starving near to death."

	Carson's brow rose.  "Vegetarian?"

	"Since childhood.  I hate the urge to kill prey."

	"Do not hate it," he corrected her.  "Channel it.  Redirect it.  Acknowledge its existence and satisfy it in other ways.  There are many paths beyond simply indulging in it."

	Starla remained quiet through the small lecture, and to her own surprise she was taking him quite seriously.  Her grandfather seemed to have no qualms in carrying her hefty body, but as they passed the shredded remains of her leathers, she sadly shifted her weight as if to reach out to them.  "Those were my favorite...."

	"They barely fit you," Carson returned.  "You will have better-fitting clothes by morning."

	The rogue was stunned as she looked up at him.  "How?"

	Carson sighed, his hut coming into view once more.  "We measure you."

	"No shit," she returned dryly.  Her comfort began to return little by little as her grandfather eased her back to the ground.  She did her best to cling to the tattered pants to cover her heavy breasts, but she had no hope of hiding her backside.  What little good fortune she had was thanks to her considerable belly hiding her thick tangle of brown curls over her nether lips.  Carson swung the door open to let her inside, and a moment later he'd latched  the door behind her and reached for a cloth tape.  "So, uh... should I change back?"

	"Not yet," he said gently.  "But I need you to let go of my pants for just a few minutes."

	Another rush of color flooded her cheeks as she hesitated.  "You're... you're not just an old perv, right?"

	Carson rolled his one eye.  "That would imply that nudity is overtly sexual in nature.  Wolves live their entire lives without clothes, as do completely feral worgen.  It is humans who sexualize it, which is not entirely bad, but not beneficial for a calm mind."  He paused for a moment as he unfurled the tape and looked Starla directly in the eye.  "You are my granddaughter, and as much as you need discipline I love you and wouldn't force you to step beyond your boundaries.  You may stay naked if you like, but that will be your choice."

	The rogue shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and with a heavy breath she laid the pants over the back of one sofa and spread her arms out straight to either side.  "Very well."

	The elder worgen nodded and began his meticulous work.  His weathered, clawed hands were surprisingly gentle as he touched her bare arm and wrapped the tape around it, scribbling each measurement on a piece of parchment as he worked.  His claw tips gently grazed her bare neck as the tape slipped around it, then along her back as he took her overall height.  "85 inches..." he mumbled, next getting wingspan measurement, then around her head, followed by more scribbles.  His movements grew extra careful as his furred arms reached around her from behind, softly brushing beneath her armpits as he stretched the tape around her bust for a careful measurement.  "50 inches, goodness," he murmured quietly.

	Starla huffed at this.  "Problem?"

	"Not at all," he returned nonchalantly as the tape slid around her waist.  "40 inches... and 46 inches," he followed with a hip measurement.  "Spread your legs a bit," he asked as he took the tape around her right inner thigh.  "Alright, now you can transform, and we do it all over again."