Twilight crept into the study while Hajin balanced cider on the cushion propping his splinted elbow, the sling strap loosened. Didi's pen walked down the casualty list instead of poking at the core, while he kept fussing with the cup.
She stopped at the first entry and peered at him over the top of the page.
"Justin," she read, tapping the pen beside the name.
"The report says he lost a leg at the inner trench, so what does he actually need when the healers send him home?"
Hajin set the cup down and stared at the letters until Justin came back, refusing shelter with blood behind him. The kid dragged that leg down the path so the younger recruits could scramble past, never once begging for help.
'Stubborn idiot held the line on one leg, and now I get to sum that up in ink.'
"Left leg, below the knee," he said quietly, keeping his eyes on the name instead of the injury column.
