It was well into the middle of the night when Tuhor Malikie came home. He was more than tired; he wore the bone-weary exhaustion of a man who saw too much, did too much, but never enough and it sat on his shoulders like the weight of an entire lifetime. Did I save the right people? Did I move fast enough – can I do better? What am I going to tell the wife of the man who didn’t come home this time? What would I want someone to tell Ysen if I didn’t come home?