Ruby’s POV
I’m glad I’m allowed to stay.
Recovery becomes its own kind of drill. Each morning I rise a little earlier and circle the perimeter with slow, careful steps. The ache in my legs eases as I move, almost becoming strength.
One morning, before the camp wakes, I test myself. Low squats. A stretch. A slow kick. I circle my arms and throw a practice punch. Balance returns bit by bit. I run through the simplest forms I remember: blocks, sidesteps, shifting my weight. Old muscle wakes. There’s pain, but it can’t overrule memory.
A shadow crosses the canvas. Knuckles tap the tent pole once.
“Bandage change,” Lily murmurs, voice low and steady.
Steam curls from the basin she sets by the pallet. Cool air kisses my skin as she lifts the blanket. “Turn a finger width toward me,” she s
