Sora's POV
Two days after Bobby tells me Blackwood watched me cross the yard, I stop thinking about it.
It's pointless.
I won't change the way I walk — I can't. A mask hides a face, a cap hides hair, but the way I move is the one thing I can never put away. If he insists on tormenting himself with a suspicion he can't prove, then he can carry it himself. Not me.
By midafternoon I've finished four surgeries, and the air in the tent has gone thick enough to feel on my eyelids. The next case is twenty minutes out. I push the flap aside and step into the corridor between the surgical tent and the supply yard.
I lean against the canvas pole. I undo the strap of the outer mask and pull it down to my chin. I turn my face to the side and let the breeze move across my jaw.
The first cool air
