Her eyes narrow with sudden sharp interest, the look in them intent and somehow nearly as bright as the light they are holding between them.

She can feel the shift in the weave, where it crosses from her hand to Harrow's and is held balanced between them, and she wonders if this is what it might feel like to channel saidin as well as saidar - although the comparison, she knows, is not entirely accurate.

Carefully, Moiraine untangles a few more of the threads from the whole and extends them toward the other woman.