Nathan barely had to look around to know that the enemy was faltering. Solrin had been able to lead most of them uniformly, a great mass with singular goals. Now they were back to personal agendas, and failing because of it.
He waved at Jim to say it was okay, urging his brother onward to join them. Then he turned to Solrin. “Glad to have you with us, Sol,” he said, reaching out to smack Solrin’s arm.
But his hand froze just as it was lifting. Solrin’s face had gone from a pleasant, grateful smile to wide eyes and a blank, almost pained expression. Nathan didn’t understand until he heard Walter cry out.
Solrin lurched forward, and then, like some awful scene from a horror movie, there was a hand, anarmpunching its way out of his chest, bloody and covered in gore.