Dawn did not arrive all at once.
It bled into the sky reluctantly, as if even the sun hesitated to cross a threshold it did not fully understand. Pale light slipped over the frozen ravine, catching on shards of ice and turning them briefly into mirrors. The world looked unchanged—but East knew better. Change had already happened. It simply had not finished introducing itself.
They broke camp without ceremony.
No one spoke of rest. No one suggested waiting. The Recorder lingered at the edge of their formation, silent and watchful, eyes constantly shifting as though reading layers of reality others could not perceive. North led the way, her presence carving a subtle path through the cold, polar authority bending the land just enough to grant them passage.
West walked at the center.
Not protected.
Anchored.
