The stillness broke. First came the grip in my hands, tightening around the cold, dark staff planted beside me. I surveyed the perimeter. Four round green figures remained stationary along the gray disc before me. Discipline demanded an inspection. I shifted my weight forward. My right armored boot pressed slightly into the soft, white surface beneath. Sweet, sticky cream yielded under my tread. I steadied my footing, squaring my shoulders to maintain a clean post.