By evening, Tessa had found the landing on the route sheet herself.
She brought it to Drake at the quiet rail, after Maren had checked the injured and the remaining shelter places had been assigned.
“That one,” Tessa said.
“We’re looking at the convoy intersection after—”
“I understand where you’re going. I don’t want to go with you.”
The cloth bundle beneath her arm had become a small letter case. Its latch was bent. The coat around it was torn where she had dragged it across the wreck’s rail.
Drake remembered her at the other end of Red Current, waiting with Jalen’s group. He had spent years remembering the people he got into his boat more clearly.
“I know the signal didn’t reach you,” he said. “We believed the passage—”
