Talia slept.
A full sleep. Not the broken sleep disturbed by images of Earth's last hours. Nor the rigid, hovering doze of the first hours in the meadow where every rustle sounded like a breach.
When she finally surfaced, her body felt heavy but… held together. The sharp glass edge of shock had dulled into something else—bone-deep tiredness, stiff muscles and a fogged mind.
She lay there for a moment, staring at the pale canvas above her face as the sounds of the camp seeped in around the edges.
The camp was waking up.
Outside, voices murmured instead of cracked, shaking shouts. A pot lid clanged. Someone laughed, quick and quiet.
Progress.
She pushed herself upright, wincing as her thigh reminded her it existed. The tent was half-empty; Mum and Grandma had already gone. On the far side, a kid's blanket lay rumpled but empty, toys lined up in a careful row.
Talia scrubbed her hands over her face, breathed once, slowly, then reached for her boots.
Time to find out how screwed they were.
The light over the meadow had a strange clarity to it. The bowl's rim caught the early sun and bounced it back down in softened beams, turning the grass a muted gold.
The twin moons were a new conversation topic now, no longer the stark reminder of Earth's loss. Occasionally drawing admiring gazes with their different colouring.
Beast calls rose from the forest walls but instead of triggering the full-body flinch they had yesterday, they just made a few people pause, twitch, then keep moving.
People moved through the camp in loose streams. Families formed groups while portioning their breakfast. Kids flocked in groups or followed older siblings. The Mind-Healing tent still had a trickle of people going in and out, but no one was being carried this morning. They walked themselves, shoulders hunched, eyes shadowed.
"Morning, Tay," Theo said, falling into step beside her, notebook already tucked under his arm like it had grown there overnight.
"Morning," she answered. "How'd we do?"
"Four panic spikes in the night, no injuries. Mind-crew handled it." He flipped the notebook open. "Two minor beast brushes on the perimeter. No breaches."
"Good." She rolled her shoulders once, testing them. They ached, but in a familiar way. "I'll drop by for a check-up with Dale today. Wounds feeling almost healed, I want to see how far. Did you call Dav and the scouts?"
He nodded. "Already gathered them."
Of course he had.
They held the morning meeting near the east perimeter beside the Lord's tent, on a patch of flattened grass that had become their default talking space when it's not a confidential or sensitive topic.
Scouts lined up in a loose row in front of her—five teams, paired or in threes. North, East, South, West, Southeast. Behind them, the rest of the family and attached households formed a rough ring, sitting or squatting where they could. Babies in laps, kids leaning on knees. Everyone watching.
Talia let her gaze pass over them all once, steady and slow. Faces looked… less shattered today. Not fine. Not relaxed. But eyes were more focused, no one was staring through her like she was a ghost.
Dav stood off to one side, arms folded, expression somewhere between grim and quietly amused.
"Six-hour radius," he said, pitching his voice for the ring. "No heroics. No one dies today. Back by Midday, or earlier if anything feels wrong. You see something you don't understand, you don't poke it, you don't test it, you log it and you move."
A few tired chuckles met that. Mostly they just nodded.
"Cartographer?" Talia asked.
Reese, a scout from Dav's squad, looked over at his younger brother who lifted a charcoal smudged hand and smiled at his family's 'Map-man'.
"You get the bowl today," she told him. "Mark the contours. Anything interesting inside the rim—rock outcrops, good sightlines. And find that river we can hear from the southeast. I want its line plotted. You'll have guards to keep you safe."
"Yes, Lord."
Theo cleared his throat quietly. "I'll be recording all reports as they come in. Please use the same structure we discussed—terrain, resources, beasts, anomalies, risk rating."
"Look at that," Joel murmured from behind Talia's shoulder. "We've got a proper corporate meeting structure. So proud."
"Shut up," she muttered back, not quite hiding her smile.
She let her gaze sweep the treeline. The trees rose in a thick wall all around the bowl, leaves moving in a breeze she couldn't feel down here. Beyond them, the land climbed, dipped, broke into ridges. You couldn't see much from the valley floor—but you could feel the world beyond it, heavy and waiting.
She lifted her chin.
"North, East, South, West and Southeast. You all know your headings. Play safe and return before sunset."
A scattering of rueful grins at that.
"Go," she said.
They went.
The line of scouts peeled off into their directions, slipping passed the perimeter fences and through the meadow's cut paths toward their destination. As they vanished one by one, the ring of watching people exhaled together—like the air in the bowl had been held and released.
Then, slowly, they drifted back to tasks.
'Map-man' as he was affectionately called was walking the fence-line with a board in one hand charcoal in the other, head bent furiously drawing. Talia passed him on her first perimeter loop, noting how his tongue poked out the corner of his mouth when he focused.
"It's almost too perfect," he murmured, more to the charcoal than to her. "Like something scooped us a nest."
"Or a crater," one of the guards said, leaning on his spear, surveying the inner walls.
Joel snorted. "Let's go with 'nest.' 'Crater' is a problem for next month."
"Copy that," 'Map-man' said weakly, sketching in the faint curve of the southeast where the sound of water threaded through the grass.
Around them, the camp moved.
People sat in small clusters, repairing gear by habit. A woman showed another how to check the tension on a bowstring. Two teens sat back-to-back, comparing knives. The frantic, buzzy energy of yesterday had faded; movements now had a grim, professional rhythm.
The Mind-Healing tent flap opened; a man stepped out, eyes red but clearer. He didn't look around for someone to tell him where to go. He headed straight toward a group preparing to lumber on the East forest edge, shoulders braced.
Talia took it all in as she walked the edge—checking the half-ring of early warning stakes, listening to the forest.
Halfway round she had to stop, because she was suddenly being overtaken by a Moss Beetle.
Grandpa Vil marched along proudly at its side, one hand on the armoured shell as if he were walking a particularly smug dog. The beetle clacked its mandibles, antennae waving. A guard walked on its other side, watching it warily. Behind them marched a teen carrying a disgruntled Bush Chicken under one arm like a feathery trophy, a trail of kids following and pointing.
Talia blinked.
Grandpa lifted his chin. "We're testing their recall and obedience," he said. "And showing the kids what proper beasts look like. Not those corrupted things."
The Bush Chicken let out an offended warble.
Talia huffed a laugh. "Don't let them teach it how to peck people."
"That's your job," he said mildly, and kept walking.
Fair enough.
Shaking her head, Talia continued her patrol, then made her way to the medical tent. After a brief check and a reluctant approval for light duties only, she left and went to hunt down Theo.
She found him in the planning tent, writing furiously on a slate while a newly appointed assistant transcribed onto paper beside him.
"Results?" Theo asked without looking up.
"Light duties," Talia said. "Just internal knitting left to finish. This new healing ability is ridiculous—something that would've taken months is nearly fixed in under a week."
"Good. Donate more supplies," he muttered, rubbing his temple. "Everyone's suddenly realised how valuable those cheap blindboxes were. Shame we can't access them now unless they were already in a space pocket." He groaned.
Talia looked extremely smug. "My last ten minutes were spent opening over eighty blindboxes." She dropped another few reams of paper onto the table.
Teagan, Joel, and Luke all froze—then exchanged wide grins.
"I knew there was a reason she did that," Luke sighed. "Glad we copied her."
"I told you," Joel said, pointing at Talia, "she never does anything without a reason."
Hours crawled.
The sun climbed, the meadow warmed and people moved in a slow rhythm—repairing straps, patching clothes, cleaning weapons in calm, repetitive motions. Somewhere, Grandma was directing a group of aunties as they turned a pile of scavenged cloth into extra blankets.
By the time the first scout team returned, the whole camp was ready to stop pretending they weren't watching the treelines.
The northern group came in through the main gate, dust on their boots, a faint shake in their hands. Not full-body panic. Just that leftover tremor of adrenaline that hadn't finished draining.
Talia met them halfway, Theo and Dav flanking her automatically.
They gathered in the Lord's tent for an enclosed meeting. Talia needed to gauge the danger first before revealing it to everyone.
"How bad?" someone asked quietly.