The crowd was growing as more Bullets emerged expecting to join their morning regimen. Tassos, however, remained absent.

“Well, you’ve got their attention,” Pisces muttered, pulling Caledonia’s hands out and beginning to wrap her knuckles in lengths of fabric.

“Be ready, Pi.” Caledonia squeezed her hands into fists as Pisces tied off the wraps. “Round two will fall to you and Sledge. Nettle!”

“Yes, Captain.” The girl hurried over, always closer than Caledonia expected her to be.

“As soon as this starts, you’re up.”

“Consider it done,” Nettle chirped, popping up on her toes.

“Shouldn’t I take the first fight?” Sledge asked, eyes on the ever-increasing circle of Bullets.

Caledonia tracked Heron as he moved into the center of the deck. He was older than her by decades. He would inevitably be slower, but there was a reason he stood at Tassos’s side and she was sure that reason would soon become clear.

“I’m in the mood for a little blood,” she said, still watching Heron.

“Moon and tides, Cala.” Sledge said it like a prayer and a curse.

Caledonia only shrugged her shoulders, letting the motion turn into a small stretch. Behind her, Oran watched the whole thing with arms folded over his chest. He hadn’t said a word through all of this, but now he stepped forward until he was so close to her back she could feel the heat of him through the thin fabric of her shirt.

“He’s an old salt,” he said. “He’ll go for force, but he’s faster than you think. Don’t let him pin you.”

They’d barely been alone together in the past day, and the hurt she’d caused him was very near the surface.

“You changing your mind?” Heron called.

“You aren’t so lucky!” Caledonia shouted back, flexing her fists and striding into the ring.

She saw the flash of Nettle’s rainbow-colored hair ties slipping around the ring of Bullets, and then she was gone. All Caledonia had to do now was take her time.

The second she was within range, Heron initiated his attack, charging forward like a beast. Though his fists were raised, he saved his strike for the moment she attempted to spin away. She saw it coming and had just enough time to absorb the blow with her forearms instead of her face. The impact stung against her bones, sending quakes of pain to her elbows and wrists.

It was as bracing as a cold wind and Caledonia relished it.

“Feel like starting for real now?” Heron asked, and though his expression was focused, Caledonia had the impression he was teasing her.

“Do you?” she challenged.

Heron responded with his fist. He struck sparingly, but every time he did, his aim was brutal. It was like being attacked by very precise hammers. Every time he dropped his fists it was to strike, which made finding room to retaliate nearly impossible.

But only nearly.