The moon was reaching the peak of it's phase, and Branson hated the swamp during the shift.  So, as he's done countless times before, he packed up in an old pickup borrowed from a friend, and headed to Mississippi.  The three hour drive to Homochitto National Park was nice.  He had Johnny Cash blasting out of the speakers for the majority of the ride.  Four cigars were lit and snubbed out by the time he arrived at the campsite.  He made sure to grab a spot near the river so his hunting would be easy.

He took his time setting up camp, and took the time to scout a bit around.  No other shifters here, that was good.  A few scents were frequent around the area, but he was sure once they smelled the giant bear that was in residence tonight, they would leave also.  He went down to the river and was pleased to see there were several large fish, even at this time of day.  That means he would have a good supply when the moon rose.  He headed back to camp, and carefully took his clothes off, folding them neatly, before packing them away in the tent.

He sat for a while making sure he had everything he would need once the shift came, and checking the moon every now and again.  It was almost time.  The large golden colored bear was anxiously pacing on that distant plane of existence.  "Easy fella.  You'll be out soon enough.  He wished he could reach out and pat the bear's head.  He sighed heavily trying to push the anticipation out of his own chest.  He began to walk into the surrounding woods, and waited about two hundred meters out.  Then he felt it.  It was as if a string was being pulled tight in his very soul, and any moment, he knew, it would snap.  And just like that, his body dropped to the ground with a low growl coming from his lips.

With teeth bared, he tried to endure the small amount of pain it still caused him during this part, and then the skin around his body began to tear.  His chest swelled, and the epidermis split wide down the center, and then there was a violent explosion of his human parts.  Lying in a pile of warm, clear bioplasm was a huge friggin' bear.  Golden brown, and ready to prowl the night. Standing up and shaking off furiously, he squared those large shoulders, and let out a heart thundering bellow of a roar.  The forest was his.  The world was his.  He took a sniff at the immediate area before bounding off towards the sound of rushing water.  He marked his way at several trees, and finally arrived at his feasting site.

He slowly moved into the water, achingly slow, in fact.  The cold water rushed around his legs, and soaked into his fur.  He waited, rather impatiently, for the fish to acclimate to his presence.  finally after what seemed forever, they were swimming underneath him, and brushing against his limbs.  He waited only a few moments more, and with a quickness that gave the lie to his size.  Instantly he had that cold, wriggling, scaly flesh in his jaws.  He jerked his head, and released those powerful vices to fling the food onto the bank for later.  After several times of this procedure, he had quite a large pile of trout waiting on the bank.

He trundled out of the water, and vigorously waggled, shedding the water from his fur coat.  Then he sat back heavily on the ground, and picked up fish from the pile between his legs.  After gorging himself, he lazily wandered off in search of a cave to sleep in for the night.  It was about two miles away when he found it.  It was perfect, and only smelled of small animals, and a few bats.  He pulled his bulk inside, and flopped against one of the walls, quickly falling asleep.