The girl's new body was ravenous.

She bent forward so that her nose was inches from the whitewashed path. There was a smell here that made her feel a deep longing, and filled her mouth with saliva, enough so she might vomit. Separating this new sensation of hunger from the equally nubile twist of nausea was impossible. She had a desperation about her.

Had she a mirror with which to glimpse herself, Amon would have seen the red of her eyes, the hang of her open mouth, the dampness of her feet and the way her entire copper-colored body stood out against the wasteland of snow. There was an exuberance to her movements. A gangliness. The lack of grace showed in the ambling manner of her gait and slovenly affect of her ragged coat, which otherwise could be considered beautiful (a show stopper); if only for its vibrance, its newness.

She saw what was around her instead. The way the ground ascended before her eyes with perfect clarity, and the forking path among the trees. The sky was ignored for now - she could not adequately crane her neck to see whatever existed overhead and did not think to do so, what with the warm smells beneath her, which took all of her interest.