Feeling The Writhing

The shock itself could have thrown her off, but she maintained her grip.
Her hand had reached along the body of the writhing form, a body covered in small, brittle hairs where, here and there, narrow legs reached out, wriggling ineffectively. But at the apex of the body, nothing.
Hevne supposed she had emptied her mind, assumed nothing: but she knew she had, after all, assumed that this thing was going to be either human or beast.
She had been wrong.
Trapped beneath her, whatever it was suddenly ceased struggling.
And almost immediately, a light shone down from above her.