Well enough.

You move through the forest as though you have known it your entire life, navigating through the thickets and brush as quickly as your four legs will carry you. Though you had never been in these woods before now, you feel as though you know every inch of them. Perhaps that is so as, being what you are, having some sort of implanted memory of your master's lands would make sense. Or perhaps it is your lupine senses that have drawn a map of the woods for you that only a feral predator such as yourself can read and understand.

Whatever the case may be, you navigate through the Umbral Woods with ease, dodging around and leaping over obstacles and obstructions in your path without even losing speed. The forest is a blur of black and indigo around you as you speed through it, letting your nose guide you. Every so often, you do stop, but only to sniff the air so you can reorient yourself and get back on the right path. And, thus far, you believe your nose has guided you true.

For, as you move through the forest, you catch a scent that does not belong. The scent of something untainted by darkness and clean of evil. It is only a lingering wisp of a scent, the remnants of somebody passing through, but that lingering trace is quite clearly a scent belonging to one that is touched by the light. While you cannot yet tell whether the scent is human, dwarf, gnome or any other race nor how many individuals there are leaving behind such a scent, you are sure of what you have caught a whiff of and, thus, you are sure of the path you are on.

You follow that bare wisp of a scent towards the southeast, finding more traces of that scent as you do. You move with that same surety of movement and speed that you had been before, but you pause more often to catch the scent in the air and adjust your route as you get closer and closer to the origin point of the scent. Bit by bit, the scent is growing stronger and you know that means you're getting closer to your prey. Soon enough, you will be upon them and you feel your bloodlust grow more intense with each passing moment.

That is why, when you come upon traces of your prey's passage, broken branches and disturbed ground, you are nearly gnashing your fangs with the desire to tear flesh and spill blood. It is an almost overwhelming urge within you, that instinct to hunt and kill, and it presses at you to move quickly and slay your enemies and feed on their flesh while it is still hot and bloody. It is the instinct of a wild beast and, in the form you're in, you feel it very keenly, but you know that you are more than just a beast, more than an animal. You created for yourself multiple forms and, in doing so, pulled together reason along with feral instincts. You are a predator, meant to stalk and kill prey, but you also have higher thought. You are not just a creature made to follow instinct blindly and let it guide you where it would. You are a mixture of thought and instinct, of human and wolf, and those two things must temper each other, you know.

And, yet, with the knowledge that your prey is close and nearly within reach, it is very difficult to curb your instinct to charge forward and tear into your enemies with wild abandon. It is very difficult indeed...