Sora's POV
The war gets worse fast.
Rogue activity doubles in a week. They hit two supply lines and a forward camp in three days. The wounded come in faster than we can close them. We go to twelve-hour shifts, then we stop pretending the shifts have edges at all. You work until your hands shake. You sleep two hours. You go back.
By the fourth day I've stopped counting the surgeries.
Bobby works beside me through all of it. Suction, clamp, the next instrument in my hand before I ask for it. We don't talk much. There's no room for it. When you're this deep in the work, words just slow you down, and both of us know it. We've done enough of these together that his hands and mine move like one person's now.
Somewhere around noon, between a spinal fragment and a gut wound, he says it low.
