In an instant the world went to black, and as sound faded in, Kin realized that the darkness didn’t come from any neural or ocular dysfunction but from his eyes reflexively closing with the booster flowing through his body. His lungs ate up the hillside air—shallow at first, then gasps out of his control. The post-jump scent, a burn similar to a day-old barbecue pit, tickled his nose and his memory, though Kin was simply happy that anything tickled. “Look,” the woman said, “he’s breathing. Come on, here you go.”
