Three days of something that almost feels like peace.
Not real peace — there's no such thing while hunters have our coordinates and Lydia has been conspicuously absent from meals. But the functional kind: a temporary suspension of the worst possibilities, where the work that needs doing gets done and the crises stay at a manageable size.
Damon and I move through the days in parallel. Strategy meetings in the mornings, where I sit at the table now instead of standing against the wall. Patrol route analysis in the afternoons, where my mark contributes things the maps can't — the particular pressure-shift that means ambush setup versus active approach, the difference between hunters scouting and hunters positioned to fire.
We work well together. That's the strange and slightly inconvenient
