So, there you are with a forty nine ton camera inches from your chest and nuclear product dashing through your veins. What do you do?
Shun fear and claustrophia. Call in your Unseen Helpers. Who's out there? Who will assist you now? You have Nuumite tucked under your atlas and asked for music. Enya blares through the medical setting, almost drowning out the dull groan of the camera as it rotates around your body. Keep your eyes closed. Do not move a muscle. Do not speak. We'll leave you alone. No. Wolf voice. Someone is in attendance but you do not see her.
Wolf comes in his fiercest form. You haven't shapeshifted for a long time. You are no longer the crone, chilled to the bone. You are wolf, paws lounging above your head, resting in front of a fire.
Later a large Maine Coon cat sits on your belly for the second picture taking. No smiles required. And inbetween, they ask you to run for your life. You are wired, white monitors dragging from your body, a blood pressure monitor on your other arm. The wolf is gone and you grasp at the golden thread tethered to your crown chakra as they crank the machine and tell you that you are not running.
"It's almost over," a voice says after the second picture session. But no voice tells you it is over. You wait. The energy has shifted. You open your eyes. The monster camera is back on its gigantic pedestal. Still the command of 'do-not-move' rings in your ears. You roll your eyes to the right. No one is there. "Am I done?" You call out. And you are.
A hungry wolf, you escape, find food and water. Results pending.