Theron's crew accelerated.
Satou watched the settlement adjust to the new presence.
Not smoothly — the specific friction of new people in established rhythms. But correctly. The friction that came from two real things encountering each other rather than the friction that came from something being wrong.
He named the friction too.
Not formally. Just noticed it and let it be what it was.
Growth.
----
The manuscript left the settlement on a morning in the fifth month.
Not all at once — three copies, made with the specific care that Freda brought to anything she produced. One went to Aldenmere's academic network through Cael's relay. One went to Morgana's own connections — the specific scholarly correspondence network that a thousand-year-old mage maintained through channels that weren't attached to any particular institution. One stayed in the settlement's library.
Freda was present when the copies left.
Not at the gate — at the window of the common room.
