She glanced down at the wound running from her thigh to her calf like she'd forgotten it existed. When she raised her left hand, blue-white flame cupped in her palm, the light made her wet tactical suit shimmer. She ran the flame along the soaked fabric, starting at her collar. Steam lifted off in controlled bursts as the water evaporated under the precise application of heat.
The temperature had to be dropping and rising by fractions of a degree, because the material wasn't scorching, wasn't even discoloring. She moved the flame down her sleeve, across her chest, down the other arm. More steam. The suit began to dry in patches, darkening from waterlogged black to the matte finish of dry tactical fiber.
