Day 192 since emergence
Shadow stood at the entrance to South Nest and tried not to think about how far away Kai was.
Three kilometers. Scrubland and shale. Far enough that if something went wrong, no one would arrive in time. Close enough that Kai could appear without warning and see every mistake.
"You're thinking too loud," Balance said, appearing at Shadow's shoulder with that quiet step that always seemed to bypass attention. "I can practically hear the anxiety from here."
"I'm not anxious." Shadow checked the hunting schedule scratched into stone. Three-kit teams instead of pairs. Backup hunters waiting at the den. More defenders than they probably needed.
"You're terrified," Balance said, gentle instead of mocking. "That's normal. First week running anything alone."
Seven days since South Nest was carved out of the hillside. Seven days of decisions without Kai's shadow settling everything. Seven days of wondering which choice would be the one that hurt someone.
Guard leaned a spear against the wall, easy as breathing. "Teams One and Two, back." He jerked his chin toward the mouth of the tunnel where hunters padded in with full loads. "No injuries. Still think we need three per team?"
"Yes," Shadow said, steady. "Until we understand the territory better."
Guard didn't roll his eyes. He didn't have to. The math was obvious: nine hunters to do six hunters' work. Safety margins are expensive.
Shadow walked the den. Water skins lined the coolest wall. Food stores sat low, within reach of the smallest kit. Sleep alcoves staggered so nobody blocked an exit. Nothing fancy. Everything deliberate.
The food cache was open. No locks. No ration master. Anyone could take what they needed.
"Accountability, not dependency," Balance murmured, watching a small kit measure out a strip of dried meat and then—after a second look at the communal pile—put a sliver back. "Smart. Terrifying if it fails."
"Thanks for the pep talk."
"I'm honest, not confident," Balance said, entirely too cheerful. "Different skill set."
Shadow placed a bare paw on the south tunnel wall. The stone here acted like a horn; a whisper could carry to the inner chamber. They'd tested it—twice with Quick sprinting, twice with Guard trying to ghost through. Fifty meters of audible warning every time. No night guard on that entrance. Put bodies where noise didn't help you.
By midmorning Kai arrived like weather changing.
Shadow felt him first through their faint link: focused attention, the particular silence that meant Kai was taking in everything and already trying to make it better.
He paced the den without a word, eyes moving. Structure. Allocation. Routes. The way kits arranged themselves in work clusters. Nothing escaped.
They walked the perimeter together. The silence felt like an exam.
"The south tunnel is unguarded at night," Kai said finally.
"It echoes," Shadow answered. "Anything moving there announces itself. We post where sound doesn't help us."
"Tested?"
"Four runs. Same result."
Kai listened to the passage, head tilted, like he could hear last night still humming in the stone. "Unconventional."
"It works."
They reached the open cache.
"This invites overuse," Kai said.
"It invites responsibility," Shadow said. "If I hold every portion, I'm the bottleneck. They learn dependency. This way they learn discipline."
"Risk: burning through stores."
"Then it's a lesson we teach once," Shadow said, not backing down. "Or it's trust that sticks for when I'm not here."
Kai didn't argue. Somehow, that stung worse than a correction.
Archive arrived with numbers scratched onto bark. "Hunting output is up nine percent with three-kit teams," he said in the voice of math about to end fun. "Net caloric efficiency remains negative if team size holds."
"One more day," Shadow said. "Safe patterns first. Efficiency second."
Kai pivoted. "Water?"
"Stable," Balance said from across the room. "East seep is cleanest. Night pulls to reduce evaporation."
"Comms?"
"Whisper's markers," Shadow said. "Simple shapes. Fixed sequence. Any kit can learn it in an hour. Still works under stress."
They ate together that evening. Two younger kits took more than they needed, hesitated, then—without prompting—returned a sliver to the pile.
Kai noticed. Said nothing.
Later, Shadow called council: Balance, Guard, two senior hunters, Archive to record. Whisper's spot was marked with a smooth stone; he was still at the main bunker refining the relay chemicals.
"Three problems," Shadow said. "Hunting team size, defender rotation, water pull timing. We can only optimize one today. Which buys us the most breathing room?"
"Cut to two-kit teams," a hunter said. "We're burning calories."
"Fix rotation," Guard said. "North approach gets shadow cover at dusk. I want bodies there."
"Water timing," Balance said. "If the seep chemistry shifts, we catch it too late."
Three right answers. One choice.
"Water," Shadow said. "Three-kit teams for one more day. Guard—short shifts north; cheaper calories. Balance—midnight and dawn pulls. Taste every draw. Any hint of change, we switch to the west seep."
No cheers. Just movement. The kind born of trust.
After, a builder kit with careful eyes approached, ears flat. "Construct-Two," she said. "Can I ask something?"
"Always."
"If you mess up…" She swallowed. "Does Kai replace you?"
Shadow felt it like a physical blow. Maybe they all thought this was a test. Maybe they thought he could be swapped out like a bad tool.
"If I mess up," Shadow said, "I fix it. That's the job. Kai knows that."
Across the den, Kai's ear flicked. He let the answer stand.
Construct-Two nodded, shoulders easing like someone had set a heavy box down beside her, not on top.
Night settled. The south tunnel breathed its own low music. The den smelled of stone, leather, and hope that refused to announce itself.
Shadow stayed awake long after the others slept, listening to the horn-passage and the soft shuffle of kits who had started returning food on their own.
Trust was slow. But he could hear it learning to walk.