The air whistled in my ears as we descended from the Seraph, Luke carrying me in his arms. Storm demons circled us like curious vultures, and the Last Light Company roused, staring up at the approaching skyships. They had no tents or fires, and seemed worn and haggard. Many had minor injuries, with more than a few bearing their arms in slings.
Luke landed in a small clearing in the midst of the army. Scarcely had my feet touched the ground than a scarred soldier wearing the colors of an officer ran up to us, flanked by a full patrol.
"Jackal!" I cried, releasing Luke's hand and throwing my arms around the grizzled man.
"Been a while, little Lady," he said, awkwardly ruffling my hair. "You seem to have grown an inch or two. And not quite as scrawny as I remember."
"Hey!" I protested, ducking out from under his hand.
"And who is this handsome fellow?" he asked, turning to Luke, looking him up and down.
