The decision to understand the threats beyond their walls was sound, but the question of who to send was a problem. Rex couldn't go; his presence was the linchpin holding Avalon together. Jean and Luc were builders, not scouts. Kaelen was too valuable at the forge. The Duboises were civilians.
The answer came from an unexpected direction.
Later that night, Rex was making a final round of the walls when he saw a figure standing by the main gate, peering out through a narrow arrow slit. It was Liana. She was wrapped in a thick shawl, her sketchbook clutched to her chest.
He approached quietly, not wanting to startle her. "You should be inside. It's cold."
She didn't jump, merely turned her head slightly, acknowledging his presence. Her eyes, reflecting the starlight, held a depth he hadn't seen before. She looked back out the slit, towards the dark, menacing tree line.
After a long moment, she spoke. Her voice was a hoarse, unused whisper, like stones grinding together after a long silence.
"I know the woods."
Rex went still. It was the first thing she had said since her arrival.
She continued, her gaze fixed on the darkness. "When they... had me. I listened. I memorized. I know where they camp. The main group. And the smaller ones." She tapped her temple with a slender finger. "I have a map. In here."
Rex felt a jolt of realization. Her silence hadn't been just trauma; it had been observation. While she was a captive, her artist's mind had been cataloging everything—paths, landmarks, numbers, routines. She hadn't just been a victim; she had been a prisoner of war gathering intelligence.
"You drew it?" he asked softly.
She shook her head. "Too dangerous. They would have found it." She opened her sketchbook. On the page was not a map, but a beautifully detailed, haunting drawing of a gnarled, ancient oak tree, its branches like skeletal fingers against a twilight sky. It was a specific tree. A landmark.
"I can show you," she whispered. "I can be quiet. I can see things others miss."
It was a tremendous risk. Sending this fragile, broken girl back into the wilderness that had broken her. But she was offering a unique, critical skill. She wasn't a warrior; she was a cartographer of the dangerous and unknown.
"Not alone," Rex said firmly. "Never alone. You will have an escort. Kaelen." Kaelen had the ferocity to protect her and the woodsman's skills to complement Liana's observation.
Liana considered this, then gave a single, sharp nod. "Okay."
The next morning, Rex presented the plan to the council. Kaelen was immediately resistant.
"Her? You want me to babysit a mute artist on a scouting mission?" she scoffed, crossing her arms.
"She's not mute," Rex said. "And she knows the terrain better than any of us. You're her protection. She's your guide."
Liana stood quietly beside him, her sketchbook held tight. She met Kaelen's skeptical gaze and didn't look away.
"We leave at first light tomorrow," Kaelen said, her tone making it clear this was a test. "If she slows me down, I'm turning back."
At dawn, the two young women stood by the postern gate, a small, hidden door in the wall. Kaelen was armed with a crossbow and a hatchet, her face set in grim lines. Liana carried only a small pack with water, a bit of food, and her sketchbook. She looked small and vulnerable next to the smith.
Rex stood with them. "Stick to the tree line. Observe only. Do not engage. Be back before sunset." He looked at Liana. "Your map is what we need. Nothing more."
She nodded, her face pale but determined.
Kaelen unbolted the door. With a last, uncertain glance at Rex, the two of them slipped out into the grey light of the emerging day and disappeared into the forest.
The hours that followed were long. Rex threw himself into work, but his attention was constantly pulled towards the woods. He had sent his heart and his fiercest fighter out into the unknown, relying on the knowledge of his most broken refugee.
When the sun began to dip below the trees, a tension gripped the entire settlement. Then, a soft knock came at the postern gate. Rex himself opened it.
Kaelen stood there, her expression utterly transformed. The skepticism and irritation were gone, replaced by a look of stunned respect. Behind her, Liana looked exhausted, but her chin was held high.
"Well?" Rex asked.
Kaelen shook her head, almost in disbelief. "She's a ghost. Moves without a sound. She led us to three different campsites. We saw them. The big one with the bearded man... and two others." She looked at Liana. "She drew it all. Not just a map. Numbers. Weapons. Everything."
Liana silently handed Rex her sketchbook. He opened it. On the pages were not just maps, but intricate, annotated drawings. Here, a sketch of a sentry's patrol route. There, a tally of visible weapons next to a drawing of a campfire. It was a military intelligence report, rendered with an artist's eye.
He looked from the detailed pages to the quiet, resolute girl who had created them. She wasn't just the chronicler of their beauty. She was the cartographer of their threats. In her silence, she had found a power none of them possessed.
The fragile bird had just proven she had the eyes of a hawk.