"You're it, Shimon!" Zeke yelled, ducking behind a stack of crates, his laughter echoing across the training grounds.
Shimon, still reeling from Jorel's sudden tag, groaned. "Seriously?! You just ganged up on me!" He adjusted his glasses, a playful glint in his eyes despite his protest, then began counting loudly, facing a weathered stone wall.
"One! Two! Three!"
Jorel, grinning, sprinted, diving behind a massive, gnarled tree that marked the edge of the official training area. The exhilaration of the game, the simple, unburdened joy of it, had momentarily eclipsed the churning anger and apprehension that usually simmered within him. He heard Zeke's muffled movements nearby, then a loud crash and a string of curses as Zeke likely tripped over something. Jorel snickered, a genuine, easy sound.
