"Up it is, then," says Gala, her eyes narrowing. The thumb and forefinger of her right hand rub the inside of her eyelids, squeezing the bridge of her small nose, as he neck bends down.
She has made a decision, and her fingers curl into fists, open up again, spalyed as wide as her small hands allow. She shivers, and shakes off her elven form. She is not subconscious about the transformation into a jackal, or if she is she doesn't show it. Yip, yip, she barks, and races up the spiral staircase sliding past Henry -- when he bursts out, she wants to be with him, to keep him covered.
She has made a decision, and her fingers curl into fists, open up again, spalyed as wide as her small hands allow. She shivers, and shakes off her elven form. She is not subconscious about the transformation into a jackal, or if she is she doesn't show it. Yip, yip, she barks, and races up the spiral staircase sliding past Henry -- when he bursts out, she wants to be with him, to keep him covered.