Can talk to animals

She had turned us - all of us, except for Mouse - into great, gaunt, long-legged hounds.
"Wonderful!" Lea said, pirouetting upon one toe, laughing. "Come, children!" And she leapt off into the jungle, nimble and swift as a doe.
A bunch of us dogs stood around for a moment, just sort of staring at one another.
And Mouse said, in what sounded to me like perfectly understandable English, "That bitch."
We all stared at him.
Mouse huffed out a breath, shook his beslimed coat, and said, "Follow me." Then he took off after the Leanansidhe, and, driven by reflex-level instinct, the rest of us raced to catch up.
I'd been shapeshifted one other time - by the dark magic of a cursed belt, and one that I suspected had been deliberately designed to provide an addictive high with its use. It had taken me a long time to shake off the memory of that experience, the absolute clarity of my senses, the feeling of ready power in my whole body, of absolute certainty in every movement.
Now I had it back - and this time, without the reality-blurring euphoria. I was intensely aware of the scents around me, of a hundred thousand new smells that begged to be explored, of the rush of sheer physical pleasure in racing across the ground after a friend. I could hear the breath and the bodies of the others around me, running through the night, bounding over stones and fallen trees, slashing through bits of brush and heavy ground cover.
We could hear small prey animals scattering before us and to either side, and I knew, not just suspected but knew, that I was faster, by far, than any of the merely mortal animals, even the young buck deer who went soaring away from us, leaping a good twenty feet over a waterway. I felt an overwhelming urge to turn in pursuit - but the lead runner in the pack was already on another trail, and I wasn't sure I could have turned aside if I had tried to do so.
And the best part? We probably made less noise, as a whole, than any one of us would have made moving in a clumsy mortal body.
We didn't cover five miles in half the time, an hour instead of two.
It took us - maybe, at the most - ten minutes.
When we stopped, we could all hear the drums. Steady, throbbing drums, keeping a quick, monotonous, trance-inducing beat. The sky to the northwest was bright with the light of reflected fires, and the air seethed with the scents of humans and not-quite humans and creatures that made me growl and want to bite something. Occasionally, a vampire's cry would run its shrill claws down my spine.
Lea stood upon a fallen log ahead of us, staring ahead. Mouse walked up to her.
"Gggrrrr rawf arrrgggrrrrarrrr," I said.
Mouse gave me an impatient glance, and somehow - I don't know if it was something in his body language or what - I became aware that he was telling me to sit down and shut up or he'd come over and make me.
I sat down. Something in me really didn't like that idea, but when I looked around, I saw that everyone else had done it too, and that made me feel better.
Mouse said, again in what sounded like perfectly clear English, "Funny. Now restore them."
Lea turned to look at the big dog and said, "Do you dare to give me commands, hound?"
"Not your hound," Mouse said. I didn't know how he was doing it. His mouth wasn't moving or anything. "Restore them before I rip your ass off. Literally rip it off."
The Leanansidhe tilted her head back and let out a low laugh. "You are far from your sources of power here, my dear demon."
"I live with a wizard. I cheat." He took a step toward her and his lips peeled up from his fangs in unmistakable hostility. "You want to restore them? Or do I kill you and get them back that way?"
Lea narrowed her eyes. Then she said, "You're bluffing."
One of the big dog's huge, clawed paws dug at the ground, as if bracing him for a leap, and his growl seemed to . . . I looked down and checked. It didn't seem to shake the ground. The ground was actually shaking for several feet in every direction of the dog. Motes of blue light began to fall from his jaws, thickly enough that it looked quite a bit like he was foaming at the mouth. "Try me."
The Leanansidhe shook her head slowly. Then she said, "How did Dresden ever win you?"
"He didn't," Mouse said. "I won him."
Lea arched an eyebrow as if baffled. Then she shrugged and said, "We have a quest to complete. This bickering does not profit us." She turned to us, passed a hand through the air in our general direction, and murmured, "Anytime you want it back, dears, just ask. You'd all make gorgeous hounds."
Again, agony overwhelmed me, though I felt too weak to scream about it. It took a subjective eternity to pass, but when it did I was myself again, lying on my side, sweating and panting heavily.
Mouse came over and nuzzled my face, his tail wagging happily. He walked around me, sniffing, and began to nudge me to rise. I got up slowly, and actually braced my hand on his broad, shaggy back at one point. I felt an acute need to be gripping a good solid wizard's staff again, just to hold me up. I don't think I'd ever appreciated how much of a psychological advantage (i.e., security blanket) it was, either. But I wouldn't have one until I'd taken a month or so to make one: Mine had been in the Blue Beetle, and died with it, too.
I was on my feet before anyone else. I eyed the dog and said, "You can talk. How come I never hear you talk?"
"Because you don't know how to listen," my godmother said simply.
Mouse wagged his tail and leaned against me happily, looking up at me.
I rested my hand on his head for a moment and rubbed his ears.
Screw it.
The important things don't need to be said.

Changes Chapter 41, page 434-348


“HEY,” I SAID to the otters. (We were seeing the otters.) “Hi, guys!”
“Hi!” burbled an otter.
“Hi, hi!” said another.
“I’m tired,” said a third, yawning.
The humans around us didn’t notice the conversation, of course. Humans think you need your mouth to talk.
I wagged my tail at the otters so they would know I was friendly. “I’m Mouse, and this is the best little girl in the world. Could you guys please show off for her? She’s never seen an otter before.”
“Show off?” asked the first otter. “What’s that?”
“Go play!” I said.
“Play!” shouted the first otter, and jumped on the third otter’s head.
“Eeeep!” the third otter shouted. The first otter bounded off, and the other otters followed, into the water, out again, around and around a tree trunk, and then back into the water.
“Look, look!” Maggie said, tugging on My Friend’s coat. “Hey, look!”
The otters ran behind some rocks, but before Maggie could even ask, My Friend had scooped her up and lifted her high so that she could follow the action. Maggie let out a rolling, bubbling giggle, fascinated, and the warmth between them sang of love and light.
I wagged my tail so hard that I had trouble standing up.
I spoke to the sun bear, who was sort of grumpy but who didn’t mind tearing a section of log apart to show Maggie how strong sun bears were. The lionesses only rolled their eyes when I tried to talk them into a pouncing demonstration, but the lion was pleased to roar. The monkeys were as happy to play as the otters, and I didn’t even have to ask the peacocks to show off their pretty feathers.
All in all, I did a good job, I thought.
Good boy, Mouse.

Brief Cases, Zoo Day, Page 418-419