Tyler’s POV
Dawn comes thin and gray through the pines. The camp wakes the way a good team should: quiet, on time, every sound with a purpose. A ladle clinks against a pot once. Canvas rustles. The fire deepens when Duke feeds it cedar.
I run my checks as I lace my boots: headcount, wind, the little things. Then the last check, the new one, one ear toward the infirmary tent. Two slow pulls, a pause, then another two. Not shallow, not labored, enough to let the knot in my chest loosen.
Admiration is one thing as a story. It is another when it drops out of the dark and bleeds into your hands.
I heard Ruby’s name before I ever saw her. I was young and trying too hard in a yard that didn’t want me. The masters pretended they didn’t watch when I was beaten, but they did. So I learned faster
