As we approach the east wing, Tink's presence pounds through our claiming bond like a second heartbeat gone haywire. I feel her confusion in fragmented bursts—the unfamiliar weight of four paws against the floor, the sensation of fur where skin should be, scents so complex and layered they form a dizzying pattern her mind can't decipher. Beneath it all runs the building heat, a molten current that makes her newly-formed muscles quiver with needs she doesn't understand and can't ...