Seris remained outside.
She sat with the forest women near the low fire pit, knees drawn in, hands resting where they fell. The women spoke among themselves while working through small tasks. Cutting roots. Folding leaves. Passing bowls. Their talk moved in a way she understood, shared complaints, passing humor, details that mattered for a moment and then slid aside.
She had grown up amid this rhythm. Kitchens and back rooms. Women speaking while doing what needed doing. Still, this felt altered. No pauses when she shifted. No careful watching of her face. Her name carried little weight here. The absence settled around her shoulders and stayed.
The forest dimmed early. Tree cover pressed the sky lower. The last stretch of day drained away faster than it should have. Smoke thickened. Voices dropped. The fire pit gave off a steady glow that stayed close to the ground.
