They moved at first light, exactly as Hale had planned.
Fifty people folded into the shape two months of drills had taught them to become — the slowest pace setting the rhythm, everyone else disappearing into it, families passed quietly from one set of hands to the next through the supply corridor Valerica had mapped the night before.
No rushing.
No one getting ahead.
No one falling behind.
Isole held the rear, watching for fatigue before anyone had to admit to feeling it. Nyx kept the wider watch from the rise, tracking the garrison's morning rotations as they shifted into place. Valerica moved along the edges of the column, correcting small hesitations before they became larger ones.
And Mara counted.
Under her breath.
One family.
Then another.
Names instead of faces.
Numbers instead of assumptions.
The things that mattered too much to trust to memory alone.
For ten minutes, everything held.
Then it broke.
It happened in the eleventh minute.
A child bolted.
