Clearly, whatever she's looking at is out of range of your now pathetic vision. Her eyes, each larger than you now, must be proportionately powerful.
While you are squinting and straining in an effort to make out what lies in the distance, you are not watching Kathryn herself. She turns back to her work, whipping her hair around in the process so that it lashes you painfully; each individual strand is like thick rope!
You stumble under the stinging impact, and topple from her shoulder.
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