There's not much listening to do. Rachel isn't paying attention to the buzzing so much as the trees, and what Jo said earlier. No castle walls. Also, no castle ceiling. And getting a good look at where they are sounds really, really good right now.

Sometimes even morphing can be lovely. The pattern slowly starting to appear on Rachel's skin like a faint tattoo turning dark are of hundreds of individual feathers. And when they begin to pop out in a soft puffs of air, they are such dark brown as to be nearly black.

Except for the feathers replacing her hair, the skin of her neck and face. They're pure white.