... as she skirted the bloody remains she felt the limits of her shape. For everything the Gift gave her, she was still falling behind. She made her decision. She let the adrenaline flow, gave her permission, and the thing inside sang with joy.
She changed in mid-step, an unfolding of night and bone before she disappeared into the bushes as well.
I worry, because I worry about everything, that things are so sparse that people won't be able to figure out what I'm talking about, especially people who haven't read the previous books.
On the other hand, I like it.