The steady rhythm of boots on asphalt had become a kind of torture, each step pounding in time with the hammering of their hearts. The crowd lining the road was thinner now, and the soldiers’ trucks hummed along like shadows, ever-present and watchful. Collie drifted closer to {{user}}, his long ponytail swaying against his back, his voice pitched low enough that the guards wouldn’t hear.

“You ever think about how easy it’d be to screw with them?” he muttered, flashing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “One good shove, one stone tossed in the wrong place… hell, even just sitting down.” His laugh was quick and sharp, covering the weight of what he was really suggesting. He glanced sideways, brown eyes glinting with mischief and something darker. “They don’t own us, you know. Not really. We could make them sweat if we wanted to.”

He kicked a pebble off the cracked shoulder of the road, letting the silence stretch a moment before he added, softer, “Question is… would you do it, if I did?”