A stupid little thing. A stamped bit of bone. A whole room of leaders, watching one ration token lose balance like it’s an omen. Maybe it is.
I reach for it before I think.
My fingers close around the token, warm from the table and worn smooth by too many hands needing too many things. I set it flat beside the slate.
Five portions. Six names.
Food. Heat. Strength.
Now zemlja.
My world has gained a new column and I already hate the math.
“Send upper watch,” Marut says. “They can observe from the ridge.”
“The ridge is a drumhead,” Kavor says.
Marut’s mouth hardens. “Everything is forbidden with you.”
“Only what kills loudly.”
I almost look at him. Almost.
I don’t, because if I do, I’ll remember the way he saw my path through the chamber. The way he named survival as if it were askill instead of an expectation. The way his gaze landed on me and made the space beneath my ribs open like unstable ground.
I have no room for that. I barely have room for breathing.
Adran rubs a hand over his mouth.
“If the trail is shifting, we don’t wait until morning,” he says.
“No,” Kavor says.
The word strikes fast and certain.
Adran’s eyes narrow. “No?”
“Night hides surface signs,” Kavor says. “Cold changes scent. Stone contracts. Sand lies differently under moonshadow. If we go blind, we die before we know what killed us.”
“Then before first heat,” Virn says.
“Before first heat,” Kavor agrees, nodding once.
That gives us less than a night. My pulse hammers in my throat.
I need to eat.
The thought comes out of nowhere and hits so hard I almost laugh. I need to eat. Not because I want to. Because I’ll be walking toward a zemlja trail before first heat, and my body is an inconvenient, traitorous thing that requires fuel if I want to keep pretending I’m brave.
The shame follows immediately. Someone else needs that food. Someone always does. My fingers tighten around the table edge until the stone bites back.
Kavor’s gaze shifts to my fingers. Damn him. I release the table too late.
“Before first heat is impossible,” I say, because anger is safer than whatever he just noticed. “We need route ledgers. Death records. Heat maps. Water points. Shelter marks. Old patrol paths. Eastern gate reports.”
“Gather them,” Adran says.
“I’m not done.”
