That afternoon, Grace and Jude walked hand in hand to river shrine. Each step echoed new life, watched and sheltered. They released ribbons carrying children's laughter into water. A watcher next to bridge dipped mist into the arc, catching sound, carrying it along.
Back at orchard, wives had built a platform between saplings, crafted stage for watchers and humans alike. They arranged seats carved beneath boughs. As sun sank, wives brought offerings on stage: bread, fruit, seeds, song. Curtains of ribbons framed platform.
Children lined front benches.
Watchers assembled stage side; wives took their place; watchers glowed.
Jude and Grace stepped forward. Grace touched the shard placed there long ago. Light pulsed under her finger; watchers responded. She lifted her voice in simple melody, the first song taught in watchers' glyph rhythm. Notes soft, shaped like mist. Jude joined with soft guitar chords.
