Her own hands. Her own arm. “You … shifted,” Aedion said, noting her widened eyes. “While the healer was sewing up your leg. I think the pain … You shifted back into this body.” Horror, roaring and nauseating, roiled through her. “How many saw?” Her first words, each as rough and dry as sandpaper. “Don’t worry about it.” She gulped down the water. “They all know?” A solemn nod.
Uh oh 🫢
