Lisle stiffened as she caught sight of what had happened to her - the short stubs of what used to be fingers, the strangely contorted legs - and not a suture seam in sight.  The blood looked painted on, not like it had actually issued forth from her body.  One of those abbreviated hands lifted, came close to her face, getting turned this way and that before dropping to reach as far down her leg as she could reach.  The stubs flexed, trying to grip at her own leg, and only succeeding in denting the smooth expanse of her thigh.<br/><br/>Slowly, her body curled forward, almost bending double as her shoulders started to shake.<br/><br/>It was true.  It was all true.<br/><br/>A heaving sob rasped into her lungs and the shuddering grew stronger, and her other hand curled slightly and struck the table once, twice, three times.