Page 28 of Thexan

“You won’t engage them all at once,” I said.

“No, I will isolate them.”

“So, you control where they can move, not just where they can see.”

“Yes.”

I traced the ridgeline again, slower this time, marking out points where the path narrowed enough to force a single approach, where footing became uncertain, where even someone trained would have to adjust their balance.

“This section,” I said. “If you draw them through here, they can’t flank you. Not effectively.”

“They will attempt to compensate.”

“They can try,” I said. “The ground won’t cooperate.”

He studied the map, then me, the shift in his attention subtle but present.

“You understand terrain as a defensive structure,” he said.

“I understand what happens when people underestimate it.”

His gaze held mine for a moment longer, something like recognition passing through it before he looked back to the map.

“We will use this,” he said.

“We’ll survive it,” I corrected.

“That is the objective.”

I exhaled slowly, the weight of what we were planning settling into place now that it had shape, now that it was no longer abstract.

“They will expect you to run,” I said.

“Yes, I’m going to make them think I am.”

“But you’re not.”

“No.”

I nodded once.

“Good,” I said. “Because if you run, they chase. If they chase, they stay together. And if they stay together—”

“They retain tactical advantage,” he finished.

“Exactly.”

I straightened and looked at him again, really looked this time—not just at the injury, not just at the alien structure of him, but at the controlled stillness, the way he held himself even now, even like this.

“You’ve done this before,” I said.

“Yes, but not like this.”

“Good,” I said quietly. “Because neither have I.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then I stepped back toward him, closing the distance again without thinking about it, my hand finding his as naturally as if it had always been there.