On day twenty-nine, Sable came to Mira with something.
It was early — before six, before Marta's tea had appeared, before the compound had fully woken. Mira was on the roof in the grey pre-dawn, which was where she went when her mind was running faster than the day's schedule could accommodate. She heard footsteps on the staircase and recognized them before Sable appeared — the specific light, deliberate placement of feet that characterized someone who had spent years moving without disturbing the things around them.
Sable sat in the second chair without being invited, which was new.
"I heard something last night," she said.
Mira waited.
"On the eastern perimeter. A wolf — one wolf, moving slowly, with the specific cadence of someone who is trying to cover their own sound without bein
