Toby knew that his day was starting off poorly the moment he realised his hoodie no longer fit.
The boy woke up with a start—albeit a slow one. In context, any kind of start was probably a bad choice of words. He blinked the tiredness out of his eyes, stretched, and-
"Aaaah!"
He let out a girly shriek as his foot settled into a slurry of what felt like compacted snow. His hands immediately flew to his mouth. Toby had already been made fun of for weeks for such an outburst once, and he wasn't about to go through that again.
Wait... his face wasn't supposed to feel scaly. He continued feeling along his face, hands quickly gripping two tusks (at least... he assumed they were tusks) objects jutting out of his jaw. One look at his hands confirmed his suspicion: whatever he was, he was no longer human.
Toby's second observation was that it was deathly cold.
Even from within the plush fabric of what was presumably his favourite hooded sweatshirt (he must have fallen asleep in it... again), the temperature was making even the simple task staying awake a chore. Dragon type, he thought with a sigh. Tusks. Scales. Weird head crest. He had to be an Axew.
An Axew. Buried in the snow. Within a garment of clothing that could potentially keep him warm that he couldn't even wear. Fan-effing-tastic.
Honestly this should've been surprising to him. Spontaneous transformation. Slowly shutting down due to a cold blooded system. Abandoned. But Toby was more angry than anything else. That would be his luck. He had a test today that could've made his C in math into a better grade too. Oh yeah, and he assumed hypothermia was probably bad for reptiles. Fatally so.
If he was going to die here, at least he could go out doing what he loved most: swearing excessively. Or just yelling at the sky non-expletively. That would work too.
Before he could start (thankfully), a voice rang out through the snow.
He popped out of the bottom of his sweatshirt, still fighting to stay awake. "Hello?" He shouted, questioning his sanity. That was, until he saw a shock of yellow amoingst the grey of the sky. Or at least he thought he did. He darted back into his sweatshirt, then after a moment, stepped completely out.
Never in his life had Toby regretted a decision so quickly. And that was saying something, considering the Christmas party. He shuddered from both the cold and the memory. Every flake was like a painful dart against his now-ectothermic body. "A-are there m-m-more of u-u-u-u-uh-" he gave up on the last word after a good five seconds of stuttering. Hopefully whatever was out there would get the idea.
For the moment, his focus was staying out of the cold. Toby ducked back into his sweatshirt—even if he couldn't warm up with it, it would still block some of the wind—waiting for a response.
