The answer is not a sound.
It is a shift.
The forest exhales like it has been holding its breath for days, maybe longer, and the release ripples outward in a low, almost imperceptible wave. Leaves tremble. The air warms and cools in uneven pockets. The bond surges, not sharp this time, not painful. Deep. Resonant. A recognition that settles instead of strikes.
Derek moves.
One step.
Not into the wards. Not past the line he has already respected twice. Just enough to change the balance of the space between us. Authority without overreach. Intention without force. The kind of movement that says he knows exactly where every boundary is and which ones matter most.
Caleb shifts beside me, muscles tightening for a heartbeat before easing again. He does not step forward. He does not block.
