I do not go back to the strategy room, and I do not look for Ezra, and I do not follow the path that makes the most sense after everything that just happened, and my feet carry me toward the edge of the territory without me deciding it out loud.
The trees close in as I leave the packhouse behind, and the air shifts cooler and quieter, and the noise of movement and voices fades enough that I can think without it pressing in.
The cabin sits where it always has, and it looks the same, and the only thing that has changed is what it means, and I do not knock.
I push the door open and step inside, and the space feels still and controlled, and John is where I expect him to be, sitting and watching like nothing moves unless he allows it.
He looks up as I enter, and there is no surprise in it,
