Morning found carts moving steadily, the sorting lean-to busy with ordinary trade, and Ossa’s people repairing the boundary rope. No one was watching the tree line while they worked.
Tavik walked the new eastern edge of the contracted ground with Vhar and Nyra both, the guide-cord’s weight still unfamiliar against Vhar’s chest where he’d looped it the way Tavik had shown him. This was the ground the quarry’s crew had bled the band dry over, and walking it without a weapon half-raised felt, Vhar admitted to himself, like something he hadn’t earned the right to expect this quickly.
Vhar was not going back to Academy drills or a safer contract near its towers. The quarry had ended that expectation. The next job would come from people who worked this frontier and knew what threatened their camps.
The courier still needed a hearing. Ossa still had her apprenticeship. The ledger’s buyer remained somewhere east of the camp. Killing the quarry crew had not settled any of those things.
Nyra had finally read House Severin’s letter that morning, and its written terms had matched the messenger’s spoken ones exactly, word for word, which somehow made the whole thing feel colder than if the House had softened anything in writing. A pack of days closing cleanly did not mean every thread in it had been cut.
"The Academy will want a full account of the quarry eventually," Nyra said. "Casualties, custody, the ledger. All of it."
"They’ll get one." Vhar kept his eyes on the tree line rather than her. "Just not today. This ground gets one day where nobody has to account for anything to anyone."
Tavik kept walking beside the boundary rope and nodded once.
They passed the eastern marker and walked for an hour. A felled tree blocked the way. Its trunk was forty centimeters across. No saw or axe had cut it. Something had sheared it at a clean angle.
Ossa crouched at the break, scent-slits working the raw wood. "This happened within a day." She touched the sheared edge without pressing it. "I smell no oil, boot leather, or human blood."
"Prey signs don’t lie," Tavik said, quieter than usual. "Neither does wood."
Past the fallen tree stood a second tree bent nearly double, its upper branches cut clean from one side. A print pressed deep into the packed earth, too wide for a boar or Salvage-Kin foot. A sharp mineral smell clung to the mud. Ossa did not recognize it.
Ossa moved between the three signs with the same methodical care she’d shown reading the cut snare line days earlier, only now the care had an edge to it that hadn’t been there before. She crouched at the stripped branches longer than either of the other marks, turning one broken twig over in her fingers.
"The branches were stripped higher than anything I’ve tracked out here." She held the twig up. "It was not feeding. Feeding leaves torn bark, droppings, and a trail of scraps. These branches were sheared clean while the animal kept moving."
"Big and careless is worse than big and hungry," Tavik said. "Hungry things want something specific. Careless things don’t care what’s in the way."
Nyra crouched at the print again, comparing its depth against a similar mark near the fallen tree. "Same weight both places. Same gait, near as I can tell from two marks alone." She looked up at the two of them. "Whatever this is, it’s not passing through once and moving on. It’s been through here more than once, across ground it already knows."
"How far does your contract actually reach out here," Vhar asked.
"Our contract ends behind us," Tavik said. He studied the tree line beyond the bent branches. "No band patrols this far."
"It can still reach your camps," Nyra said.
Tavik kept watching the trees. "Yes. I would be a fool to ignore that."
Vhar set his palm inside the print. It was wider than both hands. Its dry edges showed the animal had crossed here at an even pace. He had fought larger and faster enemies, but he had never followed one through marks in mud, bark, and broken branches.
"You’re not authorized for this," Nyra said. Not a warning. A fact, stated plainly, the way she’d state a fact about weather.
"No," Vhar agreed. "Not yet."
"Your permit covers trade contacts and threats on contracted ground," Nyra said. She traced the print’s edge. "This animal is outside that permit. We send the Academy the tree, the print, and Ossa’s report."
"We will." Vhar stood and looked beyond the bent tree. "Today, we report a sheared tree, a bent trunk, and the print. The Academy can send scouts or a hunt team tomorrow."
Tavik exhaled slowly, the closest thing to relief his voice had carried since they’d found the first fallen tree. "That’s a decision I’m glad isn’t mine to make."
"Your band may have to act first," Vhar said. "The animal is closer to your tents than it is to the Academy. If it comes west tonight, it reaches your people first."
Nobody had an answer for that, because there wasn’t a comfortable one to give, and none of them insulted the moment by inventing one anyway.
Tavik crouched beside the print and set his own hand against its edge. His fingers did not reach halfway across it. "We bring every child into the middle tents. We tie the pack animals inside the rope. No one walks to the water cut alone after dusk."
"Put two people at each gap in the rope," Nyra said. "Not to fight it. To see which way it comes and get everyone else moving. If they hear wood break, they wake the camp first and ask questions second."
Ossa looked from the print to the bent tree. "What if it reaches the rope before anyone sees it?"
Vhar pointed to the dry wash running east of camp. "The people nearest the wash go uphill. The animal has broken trees and left prints. It will make noise before it reaches the tents. Listen for the break. Do not stand at the rope waiting to prove you were brave."
Tavik nodded and repeated the instructions aloud, once without changing a word. He looked at Ossa. "You take the inner tents. Tell them exactly where to go."
"Me?"
"You read the first sign. You can tell them why it matters."
Ossa swallowed, then nodded. She pulled a strip of cloth from her pocket and wrapped it around a broken branch, marking the place where the animal’s path had crossed closest to camp.
On the walk back, they found the first thing the animal had left besides wood and prints: a flattened patch of scrub beside a boulder, larger than Tavik’s sleeping mat and pressed deep enough to expose bare soil. The center held gray hair and a single cracked tooth the length of Vhar’s thumb. No blood stained either.
Nyra stopped at the edge of the hollow. "It rested here."
"Recently," Tavik said. He did not touch the hair. "The ground has not blown dust back into it."
Vhar picked up the tooth with two fingers. The crack ran from its root to the sharp tip. It had broken under force, not age. He wrapped it in cloth and handed it to Ossa. "Add this to the report."
She accepted it carefully. "The Academy will know what made it?"
"They may know the tooth," Nyra said. "They do not know the animal is this close unless we tell them."
Ossa wrapped the cloth twice more and tied the bundle to her belt. "I will make sure they receive all of it."
They walked back toward camp in the last of the afternoon light, the guide-cord’s promise of safe passage feeling smaller against the size of what they’d just measured with their own hands. Behind them, more of that creature’s trail waited in the dark than the three signs they’d already read, the way ground always held more than a single afternoon’s search could turn up.
The campfire was already lit when they reached the boundary rope.
POK!
A knot of wet wood burst in the coals. Ossa went to the fire first. Vhar watched her take a bowl from an older woman. The animal had not reached camp today, and Ossa would sleep inside the rope tonight.
Tavik stayed by the boundary rope after the others moved on. "I’ll send word to the nearer bands. I will tell them about the tree, the print, and the smell before they meet that animal in the dark."
"Send it honestly," Nyra said. "Not softened for anyone’s comfort."
"I don’t know how to send it any other way anymore." Tavik managed something that wasn’t quite a smile. "You two have ruined me for comfortable reporting. I used to be good at it."
"You’ll survive the loss," Vhar said.
"Probably." Tavik crossed the boundary rope, leaving Vhar and Nyra in the last light. "Rest tonight. I will warn the other bands before dark, and the animal has not reached camp." He paused at the fire’s edge. "My band owes you a debt, and we will pay it with work."
Before he crossed into the firelight, Vhar looked back at the trees. The quarry crew had been human, armed, and close enough to kill. The animal beyond those trees was still unnamed.
Six days earlier, Vhar had walked through the western gate without an escort. He had fought raiders, cleared a quarry, and helped a band recover stolen cargo. The Academy behind him could not protect this camp from an animal strong enough to shear a tree in half.