The summer of the second year brought a different kind of change. It came not from newcomers or discoveries, but from a shift in the garden itself. The western edge, which had always been the quietest part of the settlement, began to hum with a new energy. The wind from the west carried a strange scent, something that made the song threads vibrate in unfamiliar patterns.
I noticed it first at dawn. I had walked to the western edge to check on a small shelter we had built there for storage. The air was different. Thicker. More alive. I stood still and listened. The song threads were singing a note I had never heard before.
Julian found me there an hour later. He had noticed the change too. "The threads are responding to something. Something from the west. I have never heard this note."
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