**CHEYENNE**
I start retracing Rachel’s routines without meaning to.
It begins as a mental exercise, something to occupy the quiet space that has opened up since I stopped moving through common areas, but it quickly becomes more than that, because the more I think about where she used to be and what she used to do, the clearer the gaps become. Rachel had a way of existing in the pack that never drew attention to itself, not because she lacked presence, but because she understood exactly how much was safe to have, and where attention was most dangerous.
She used to pass through the mornings with a cup of tea in hand, stopping by the supply rooms just long enough to check a ledger, drifting past the patrol board to note changes without commenting on them, lingering at the edges of convers
