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           Whereyoudragyourselfthroughamireofbloodandmuck. 

           "I’vegottenmyselfintroubleforbelievingeverythingIread. SoIthoughtI’dplayitsafe,askalocal,"shecontinued. 

           HereIam,halfdead,coveredinshit,andyouwanttotalkabouttea? 

           Whowalksuptosomeone,kicksthemtotheground,andthenasksabouttea? Whatwasgoingthroughherfuckinghead? Iwantedtogiveherapieceofmymind,butthewordswouldn’tcome. IcouldthinkofthewordsIwantedtosay,butmymouthhadforgottenhowtowork-alitanyofprofanitiesstalledatthegate. 

           "That’sthethingwithbooks. Halfthetimetheauthordoesn’tknowwhatthehellhe’swritingabout-especiallynotthosewarnovelists. Nowhowaboutyoueaseyourfingeroffthetriggerandtakeanice,deepbreath." 

           Goodadvice. Ittookaminute,butIstartedtoseestraightagain. Thesoundofawoman’svoicealwayshadawayofcalmingmedown. ThepainI’dleftinbattlereturnedtomygut. MyJacketmisreadthecrampsinmymuscles,sendingthesuitintoamildspasm. IthoughtofthedanceYonabaru’ssuitdidjustbeforehedied. 

           "Hurtmuch?" 

           "Whatdoyouthink? "Myreplywasn’tmuchmorethanahoarsewhisper. 

           TheredJacketkneeleddowninfrontofme,examiningtheshreddedarmorplateovermystomach. Iventuredaquestion. "How’sthebattlegoing?" 

           "The301sthasbeenwipedout. Ourmainlinefellbacktothecoasttoregroup." 

           "Whataboutyoursquad?" 

           "Nouseworryingaboutthem."