She stood, and before she could take a pace, she was a boy whistling through a gap in his teeth. Then she was a woman with scarred fingers; then something small and quick that understood the world chiefly through smell.
She lost sight of her body.
Kali cast her sovereign silk in every direction.
For one blessed instant, the familiar surge of strength answered her. She knew this sensation better than she knew the shape of her face. Each thread that found something of hers drew taut, and through them she felt the extent of what she had lost.
Here was her first unassisted flight. There, the taste of a pear. Farther off, someone remembered a bridge on the day its seventh arch was completed.
She pulled.
The memories came rapidly. So did the souls carrying them.
