Mozrael stirred again, a low hum slipping from her throat. Her brows furrowed, fingers curling tighter in the blanket.
Lynnor froze mid-swing. Her fist hovered above Aramith's skull like a divine judgment awaiting approval.
"…She's waking up," Aramith wheezed, hopeful.
"Which means you live… for now," Lynnor muttered, easing off him.
Aramith exhaled in relief—Mistake number two.
Because Lynnor immediately dropped her weight onto him instead, squashing the breath right back out. "Don't think I'm finished with you. We'll resume your re-education later."
He groaned, face still pressed into the dirt. "Re-education?! I thought it was a talk!"
But before she could deliver a parting head-thump, Mozrael's body tensed. Her back arched sharply under the blanket, breath catching in a ragged gasp.
Lynnor's teasing expression slipped away like a mask falling. "Moz…" she called, already moving to her side.
