Vosh catches her in time, just barely. He moves far slower than is typical for him and I know all of us have been affected by the battle with the drow, acutely aware we're lucky to be standing at all. Damaris's dark eyes are smudged beneath them, weariness on her pale face, her own nostrils streaming a flow of blood that's slowing to a trickle.

Graldor shakes his head, finger in his ear, pulling out crimson. Blossom seems the least

effected, though she's weeping and ...