Everyone had stopped running about three minutes ago—everyone except Ruaan.
He finished his tenth lap and stopped directly in front of Harolin.
His hands were on his knees, and his lungs were doing something dramatic. His legs had already filed a formal complaint that he was ignoring. He looked up at Harolin from that position and just breathed for a moment.
Harolin held out a water bottle.
"Thank you," Ruaan grabbed it, opened it and drank the whole thing in one go without stopping. Water ran down his chin and wet the front of his uniform and he did not care even slightly. All he was concerned about was drinking everything in that bottle.
"Slow down," Harolin said.
Ruaan finished the bottle.
He stood up straight and kept panting and then gave up on standing and sat down on the field floor, both palms flat behind him, legs stretched out, face to the sky.
He looked across the field.
The new officer was looking back at him.
