They’re all out cold. Battered and bloodied, bones broken. Scar, Cat, and Finian are looking at our Tank, half-awed, half-terrified, all silent. “I don’t want you to think this means I like you, Kal,” Cat finally says. “But okay. I’m officially impressed.” “Did it just get hot in here, or is it me?” Scarlett asks. “It’s not just you,” Finian mutters, fanning himself. The Syldrathi offers his hand to me.
