It 's sun-high-in-the-sky, sweat-on-brow, leather-sticking-to-skin hot, the earth beneath their horses ' hooves dry and tight, grass yellow from weeks without rain. The heat is secondary, of course ' Erwin 's pulse is beating in his throat, eyes zeroed forward, the flare in his hand threatening to slip out the wet hold of his palm. Stupidly, he 's just focusing on holding it, not letting it slip, breaking the formation ' any second now, their retreat may be interrupted, the earth-shaking rumble of one, two, three of Them, even, coming over the horizon.

'Captain! ' Levi snaps at him, coming up on his right. 'Put your fucking arm up! '