The settlement woke before Satou did.
That was how it always went now. He'd been a light sleeper since before the war — the habit of someone who had spent enough years in crisis that complete rest felt like incomplete vigilance. He'd lie still and let the sounds come in. Construction crews starting on the eastern expansion. Kitchen smoke thickening. Vessa's serpentfolk completing the pre-dawn sweep and filing reports to the morning watch.
Normal sounds.
Settlement sounds.
He lay still a moment longer.
Lyra was warm against his left side. The child was in the next room — he could hear the small sounds of someone who had been awake for thirty minutes and was managing their own entertainment with moderate success.
He got up carefully, dressed in the dark, and went to the window.
Vaelshara spread below him in the pre-dawn grey.
Eight years. Give or take.
