"No." Lyra stood, pulling him up by the arm. "It's called 'The Rearguard Learns to Let Others Hold the Line.' And you will hate every moment of it."
Lyra stepped up beside him. Not behind. Beside . She placed her staff on the ground and drew a simple iron dagger.
Lyra finished her spell, then grabbed his collar roughly. "Listen to me. The others think you're a tactician. A clever adventurer who always has a plan. But I've seen your eyes when you think no one is watching." Her voice dropped. "You're not planning to survive. You're planning for us to survive without you." Beside
She snorted, but her hands trembled. He noticed. He always noticed.
"Five caltrops, Helm. Against forty-seven feral beasts." "Listen to me
"I had the terrain. And you left me caltrops."
Helm's jaw tightened. Old habit. In the legion, his soldiers were numbers on a casualty sheet. Here, they had names. Stories. Children waiting. That was the difference, wasn't it? He had never feared his own death. He feared their deaths, written into his ledger. He feared their deaths
"What are you doing?" Helm asked.