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“—in this particular biome,” Sazahk continued. “You all have probably never seen trees, or dirt, or a sky in your lives.”
“I have.”
Everyone paused and looked at Tar, who kept staring up at the tent ceiling as though he hadn’t spoken. Bar’in leaned over Tar’s body to poke his face into his line of sight. “When?”
“Long time ago,” Tar replied in his deep voice that Patrick swore rumbled through the ground and up his kneecaps. Bar’in made a vaguely interested sound and, after a moment, Sazahk continued.
“Well, let’s put it this way, you all have very limited experience with wilderness combat or really with the wilderness in general, correct?”
“Correct.” Fal’ran’s voice didn’t have enough strain in it, so Patrick leaned into the stretch. Fal’ran’s hand flexed and grabbed at the ground below him, but he didn’t stop him.
Sazahk continued in his bright, optimistic tone. “But you all have excellent experience in high-risk dense urban environments.”
Bar’in snorted. “You could say that.”
“I am saying that.” Sazahk's lips twitched in a brief pout before his thoughts were off to the races again. “My point is, while you are not well-equipped for this particular arena, your unique experiences give you an unparalleled advantage in others.”
“So, somehow we have to make this arena more like one we’d be better in.” Fal’ran closed his eyes and swallowed, his leg shaking in Patrick’s hands. “Make the jungle more like the projects.”
“Good,” Patrick murmured and eased up on the pressure on Fal’ran’s leg and let it drop back against his chest. Fal’ran blew out his breath with a groan as Patrick rubbed his thumbs into his hamstring. “Switch sides.”
“Is this where you regale us with your findings about the trees, Sazahk?” Bar’in raised an eyebrow as he lowered Tar’s foot back to the ground. Patrick hid his smile as he noticed Bar’in massaging the long string of muscle down the back of Tar’s leg—the little brat cared, no matter how much he fought it.
“It is!” Sazahk scooted his stool even closer until he hovered right over Fal’ran and Tar’s heads. He turned his data tablet toward them all. “Look at these ones. They’re called Yelt trees. Their bark is weak and chips off if you so much as poke at it a little, but the chemical composition of their trunks and branches suggests they’re much, much stronger than you’d initially imagine.”
“I can’t see.” Fal’ran craned his neck around and Sazahk flipped the data tablet upside down for him. “Oh, I’ve seen some of those.”
“The tall ones?” Patrick leaned over Fal’ran to get a closer view. “Yeah, there’s a big copse of them on the far east side of the arena.”
“Copse?” Fal’ran frowned and Patrick smiled, remembering how embarrassed he’d looked to ask about his latissimi dorsi. He didn’t hesitate to ask anymore, and Patrick had never seen him forget a single lesson. Except maybe that winning wasn’t everything. That seemed to be ingrained in his psyche.
“Group of trees.” Patrick leaned back and switched to Fal’ran’s other side, lifting his left leg straight up into the air and holding down his right ankle.
Fal’ran winced as Patrick hit resistance on his tight muscles and pressed through it. After a moment, he let out a deep breath and his face smoothed over. He looked up at Sazahk. “So, like a little neighborhood.”
“Like a little neighborhood.” Sazahk grinned down as he swiped to a new screen on his tablet with mushroom clouds of yellow bursting along his throat. “They also grow extremely close together. Tight spacing, walls of trunks. It’s the closest we can get to a dense urban environment in a jungle, and I think it will give our team the greatest possible advantage.”
“Good work, Sazahk,” Patrick nodded and Sazahk ducked his head with more yellow climbing up over his jaw. Now all Patrick had to do was teach these kids how to climb trees… He opened his mouth to ask Tar and Bar’in what they thought of the plan but paused when he saw Bar’in leaning over Tar having a whispered one-sided conversation.
“You have to relax or this is never going to work.” Bar’in pushed up on Tar’s heel to flex his foot, and Tar flinched. “Relax, Tar, come on. You think this is the first time I’ve stretched a man? I’m not gonna hurt you.”
Fal’ran muffled a snort of laughter, and Patrick gave his ankle a warning squeeze. He didn’t want Fal’ran ruining this team bonding moment they were all witnessing.
“Let it go.” Bar’in dropped his voice even quieter and pressed his shoulder into Tar’s long leg to push it farther up. “That’s right. Breathe.”
Then Bar’in glanced at them and the moment was over, his eyes hardening to flint.
“What?” he snapped. “You want to try stretching out this fucking rock?”
Patrick chuckled and pressed Fal’ran deeper into the stretch, not acknowledging the pained and determined sound he made, even though it settled into Patrick’s chest and wound straight down his spine. “I was just wondering if you were afraid of heights.”
Bar’in snorted. “Why would I be afraid of heights?”
Fal’ran snorted back. “Why would you be afraid of sparring?”
“Because I’m little and he is huge!” Bar’in pointed down at Tar’s chest and Patrick huffed a laugh but exchanged unconvinced glances with Fal’ran. “I am not afraid of heights.”
“Good. Because we’re all climbing trees tomorrow.” Patrick eased up off Fal’ran’s leg and rubbed his thumbs down the line of his muscles. “Alright, on your belly.”
