Re-Zero
“Re-zero after hits. That’s the code of the breed.”
Every optic drifts. You take a bump, the group opens up, and the rounds stop landing where you are looking. You do not throw out the rifle. You re-zero.
Seven tracks, in order, for the nights the sight picture will not settle. It goes down before it comes back.
“Head still pounding. Teeth still cutting. Soul still aligned.
I came back colder but I came back alive.”
In a whiteout you rope together, because the man ten feet out is already gone and neither of you can see it. That rope is the tether. It runs through every record here.
Nobody moves alone.