Ruby’s POV
I’m glad that I’m allowed to stay. The feeling lands simply and bright, like stepping into sunlight after weeks of rain.
Recovery becomes its own kind of drill. Each morning I rise a little earlier, circling the perimeter with slow, careful steps. The ache in my legs eases as I move, and soon it turns into something that feels almost like strength.
One morning, before the camp wakes, I test myself. I start with low squats. Then a stretch. A slow kick. I circle my arms. I breathe in cold air and hold it. As I let it out on a slow practice punch, the world sharpens. Balance returns, bit by bit. Sweat gathers at my brow. I run through the simplest forms I remember: blocks, sidesteps, shifting my weight. Old muscle wakes; there's pain, but it can't overrule the memory.
A shadow
