Chapter 43

  Let’s Get Tactical

  Morning light—thin and pale—slit through the leaves.

  They'd crashed for two hours after cultivating.

  Now they were on the move, boots sucking in mud that smelled like river and goblin piss.

  Throats raw, tongues like sandpaper.

  No one had spoken in an hour.

  Dan dropped to a knee at the edge of the clearing, club across his thighs.

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  The camp was fifty yards ahead: river and rising rock at its back, smoke curling lazy from a central fire, goblins still half-asleep.

  Dan didn't blink.

  “Clock's ticking. I go first—Weight on, shield up. Kim, nine o'clock—slick the ground in front of them. Chris, on my three—one fireball, center mass, then you're on cleanup. Dad, plug the rear. Anything flanks, you end it.”

  He turned to the second line.

  “Annette, Jaime, Belle. Twenty feet back. Sticks only, and Belle-” he locked eyes, “no lightning. Save it for when we need it. We can't afford friendly fire.”

  Belle nodded quick, lip cracked, knuckles white around a spear too large for her.

  Luna yipped from Jaime's feet.

  Kim whispered, “Stay. Good girl.”

  He smirked at Jimmy, “Aim true, yeah?”

  Jimmy didn't reply, just continued staring through the goblins.

  Dan nodded, stood, Seed thrumming—dense, heavy, ready.

  “We take their water, we take their Qi, we live tomorrow.”

  “Advance.”

  He slid out of the trees.

  They followed without a word.

  The Archer a step behind.