"Don't reach," she told the skeleton holding it. "Let the wrong timing come to you." It had no face to nod with. It obeyed anyway.
The ring-mouths spat fewer hands now. The ones that crawled free wore uncertainty in their joints. Not slow. Just wrong at the shoulders, like they were bracing for a weight that had already fallen. The difference was small. Small differences make rooms safe.
Mikhailis kept his hands low where the line captains could see. He opened his fingers for patience, closed them for bite, rolled them for slide. The count rode those bones as much as the floor.
