The candle burned low, the wax curling along the base like an exhausted sigh. I hadn't slept. The war maps on the table were nearly dry from the ink I'd scrawled across them hours ago—movement routes, potential ambush points, chokeholds near the rice terraces. I'd bled Daiyu's southern terrain dry on parchment. Now I just had to make the rest of them see it.
A chill wind leaked through the corners of the command tent. I ignored it. Shadow snored softly near the far edge, curled into a crescent of dark fur and heat, his ears flicking at even imagined sound.
Yaozu stood at the table's edge, arms folded, watching me with that stillness he wore like armor.
"We should rest," he said.
