The newborn Queen didn't sleep.
She hadn't learned how.
When the others rested, she stood at the edge of the clearing, eyes unfocused, wings low. Her breath stayed shallow, deliberate, as if she were counting every inhale to remind herself that breathing was still a thing her body had to do.
Zza woke before dawn.
The forest hadn't moved yet, but the silence felt like it was thinking.
She stretched, quietly, careful not to jostle Buzz where he lay beside her. His chest rose and fell, faint and rhythmic. The gold pulse had faded to a dull shimmer under his shell. He looked less like a weapon now, more like something trying to become real again.
Zza glanced toward the newborn.
"You haven't blinked in hours."
The Queen didn't look over. "You count my blinks?"
"Somebody has to make sure you're not plotting murder in your sleep cycle."
A long pause.
Then—
A soft sound, almost humorless. "If I were, I'd do it while awake."
Zza shrugged. "Fair."
Silence again.
