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Fourth Dusk swings off of a ledge, with grace, and grabs the Sightrat (still marvelously unconscious), then pulls them back, way away from the choking fumes and stinging chemicals.
You know you bounce them on a rock - it happens by sheer accident - and you know in their state the pain must be eyewatering and yet <span class="mu-i">she says not one thing</span>
But you do find...
A nice Ratwhisker, good and sharp and well-cared for, 4 Bits besides and a stubbed, half-worn ticket to the Luperni Games (economy seats, all week).
.... why is the blood dripping from her shoulder-wound in slow rivulets increasing in their gush? Is she running.... out of blood?
