The first things she noticed were the sounds. Before even becoming aware of the sun's warmth on her cheek, she woke up hearing music: High-pitched squeaks, twitterings, warbles, songs. The world was coming alive in her ear; every sound was brand new to her. She woke up in rapture. Around her the forest too was awakening. Then she felt warmth. And pressure on her flank where she'd been lying, all along the side of her hip and ribs and breast -- these new yet intimately familiar body parts, achy and tender from her prolonged sleep. She stirred slightly, feeling the air connect to her skin, feeling the unfamiliar goosebumps dimpling her skin. The next thing she knew was scent. Though she had no words to describe what she was smelling yet, she knew that the earthiness of it appealed to her. She smelt moisture. She smelt dirt. She smelt musk, her own (though she did not know that yet) and someone else's, pungent and salty and deeply moving like a long-forgotten song. She wante...