---
Fizz inhaled like a trumpet. John spoke first, softer. "Enough," he said. "And not enough to make you brave in the wrong way. Do your count. Do it clean. Don't get clever."
Rhea added, "And don't measure yourself by anyone else's night. Measure by your next breath."
The tight-braid girl nodded too hard, like a person drinking from a river. She dragged her squad away, repeating measures by their breath under her tongue until it sounded like a spell she had always known.
Dorn finished his last cap, slotted the vials into a padded strip, and gave the clearing a last long look. "The jungle will forgive the noise by midday," he said. "It forgives quickly. It forgets slowly."
