Reza
The packhouse feels different once the afternoon settles in.
Not quieter, just… looser. The sharp edges of morning discipline have softened into something lived-in. Wolves move without urgency now, conversations stretching instead of snapping shut, laughter drifting down corridors without being immediately swallowed by duty.
I like it better this way.
Starla does too. She’s uncoiled just enough to stretch, awareness wide but no longer braced for impact.
- This is the rhythm, she murmurs. The real one.
- I can see why they protect it so fiercely, I think back.
Lunch helped.
More than I expected.
Nancy had been sharp and observant as ever, but not overbearing. Stephany filled silences with stories that wandered halfway through before circling back, laughing at herself the whole
