They did not speak about Tomas.
They did not need to.
His absence traveled with them, a silent eighth presence that altered the shape of the group. The spaces between footsteps widened. No one drifted into casual proximity anymore. Laughter had vanished as completely as the fog.
Even the land seemed quieter, as if it recognized something had been taken.
They walked for nearly an hour before Kerris called a halt.
A low ridge of broken stone offered partial cover from the wind. It wasn't safety, but it was the closest thing available.
"Five minutes," Kerris said. Not gently. Not cruelly. Simply as fact.
Mateo lowered his pack and sat heavily against a slab of rock. His hands were steady again, but only because he was forcing them to be.
Jalen paced in a tight line, boots grinding into ash, jaw locked.
Anya checked her rifle in precise, methodical motions that were a little too careful.
Elias stood apart, eyes on his tablet, fingers moving as if numbers could still explain what had happened.
Imara remained standing.
She didn't know where to put herself now that Tomas no longer occupied the space beside her.
Mateo broke first.
He pulled off his gloves and pressed his palms against his eyes.
"I was right there," he said quietly. "I was right there."
No one interrupted him.
"I had the kit open. I had pressure sealant. I've pulled people back from worse than that." His voice cracked. "He wasn't supposed to die from that."
Jalen stopped pacing.
"You didn't fail him."
Mateo let out a bitter laugh. "That's a comforting lie."
Kerris looked at him steadily.
"Out here, we don't measure failure by bodies," she said. "We measure it by panic. You didn't panic. You did your job."
Mateo shook his head. "That's not the same thing."
Imara found herself stepping forward.
"He didn't die because you were slow," she said softly. "He died because the world doesn't stop moving when it should."
Mateo looked up at her.
For a moment, the control in his face slipped.
"Neither do we," he said.
Anya cleared her throat once.
"We held formation," she said. "That matters."
Elias looked up from his tablet.
"Statistically, casualties in first deployments—"
Kerris cut him off with a look sharp enough to draw blood.
"Not now, Elias."
He closed his mouth.
Jalen rubbed a hand over his face.
"He was joking," he muttered. "Right before it happened."
No one answered.
Imara could still see Tomas turning, eyebrows lifted in irritation, as if the world had interrupted him mid-sentence.
She realized then that she hadn't cried.
The thought disturbed her.
Mateo noticed her watching him.
"You okay, Anchor?"
She hesitated.
"I don't know what okay is supposed to feel like here."
Mateo gave a weak, humorless smile. "You'll learn. Unfortunately."
Kerris stood and scanned the horizon.
"We move in two."
They rose without argument.
They always did.
As they walked again, the shape of the unit had changed.
Jalen kept closer to Imara now, unconsciously positioning himself where Tomas had been.
Anya drifted nearer to Kerris, the two of them forming a harder outer shell.
Mateo remained just behind Imara, like a shadow.
Elias lagged slightly, brow furrowed.
After several minutes, he spoke.
"Kerris."
"Yes."
"This pattern of contact density is inconsistent with prior reconnaissance models."
Kerris didn't slow. "Everything out here is inconsistent."
"No," Elias insisted. "This isn't random variance. The creatures are appearing in clustered formations. Coordinated pressure points."
Jalen glanced back. "You saying they're learning?"
Elias hesitated.
"I'm saying the data suggests intent."
Silence thickened.
Anya muttered, "Great. Thinking monsters."
Mateo shot her a look. "Not helpful."
Imara felt that pressure again — the one she'd felt before the sinkhole, before the ambush.
Not fear.
Orientation.
Like standing on a shoreline and realizing the tide has changed.
"Kerris," Imara said.
Kerris glanced back, already listening.
"We're being watched."
The words felt foolish as soon as she said them.
But Kerris didn't dismiss them.
She slowed, scanning the terrain.
"You feel it again."
Imara nodded.
Jalen swallowed. "That's not comforting."
Kerris considered the horizon.
"Then we assume it's true."
That settled it.
They adjusted formation without debate.
No one asked Imara to explain.
That frightened her more than disbelief would have.
They trusted her.
And trust meant weight.
They crested a low ridge.
Beyond it, the land sloped into open distance — pale, exposed, merciless.
Imara stared across it and understood something with quiet certainty:
The Accord had not sent them here to conquer this place.
It had sent them here to endure it.
And endurance was already taking its price.