Two Halves, One Watch

Seven winters in

When we were sealed in snow, our mother asked for a story.

We had no story. We had fear.

So my hand started tapping. Renkhos answered. The tapping became a language without words. A proof that I existed and he existed and therefore the cave could not swallow us whole.

Twenty-two winters in

Renkhos thinks in sentences. I think in silence.

He says: someone should always be watching. I agree. Not because the words sound good, but because the ridge fire proved it.

The watch is a craft. You learn to feel the settlement the way Weiknos feels goats. The way Wenh feels sickness before it shows. The way Genthor feels a third mind arrive.

Watching is a field you maintain. If you perform it, you miss the moment that matters.