She feels it--feels the breeze on her skin, on Moiraine's skin, and feels the breeze originating within Moiraine, from her breath and thought. It intersects with her biological senses of the other woman's body; now that she is aware of it, she can feel the Light of Creation in Moiraine's thalergy, and how it differentiates in her through different systems and interactions.

The bellows of her lungs; the furnace of her metabolism; the ground earth and stones of her bones, the flow and river of blood. And all of them dying as fast as they live, and being replaced; carrying toxins and wastes and charred remnants flushed away through breath and blood and lymph.

"Yes," she repeats. "I think I see it." She's not--quite--maniac enough to try and do anything else magical while she does this, but her palms itch in her gloves.