The feeling remained.
Hours later.
Long after the pulse had vanished from her senses.
Long after Darius had finally convinced her to return to her shelter.
Nyra still couldn't shake it.
Someone had made a decision.
She didn't know who.
Didn't know where.
But instinct kept repeating the same warning.
Something had shifted.
And shifts always came before consequences.
Sleep never arrived.
Only fragments of it.
Restless moments interrupted by distant sounds and unfinished thoughts.
By dawn, she was already awake.
Standing outside.
Watching the forest.
The camp slowly stirred around her.
Fires rekindled.
Patrols changed shifts.
Training weapons appeared beside the clearing.
Routine.
The same dangerous routine they had spent weeks building.
The kind that made survival feel
