Whether she said it or not, she appreciates the advice. Slower moving, easier to catch. Something that won't flee from her grasp, but something that will let her try to be it. And that, plus the idea of roots, mixes and merges and forms, until she finds herself slipping into a new shape, a new way to be. It is not so much a process that Radar will be able to see, so much as it's felt - life existing even in the strangest of shapes.

Smaller, of course. They've been smaller since the start. Something where multiple roots form a base to walk with, where limbs bend and turn, a few branches sprouting from joints. Tender and new bark where skin might be, green shoots that bud out, wanting to attempt to grow, parts that curve towards the sun and others that knot and twist, until this way of being settles over her entirely.

Only about three feet tall, the sapling creature looks down at wooden hands, utterly perplexed now. Well. That's certainly different.