The smoke from burning vat products filled every bit of air and billowed out of the few small doors that were open. The eyes of most metahumans—elves, dwarves, whatever—are heat-sensitive, and P'kenyo and I were nearly blind in the terrible glare. My skin felt like burning steel, my lungs were on fire, and we were all coughing desperately. Finally, someone banged on the inside of the trailer, and P’kenyo scrambled beside me into the cab, yelling, "Go! Go!"