They spent the day in uneasy motion. The scroll was placed beneath the altar stone, hidden but accessible. Jude worked beside Zoey and Sophie clearing the western trail, but his mind wandered constantly. Every word from the scroll echoed in him like a bell in a canyon. The others avoided talking about it directly, but glances lingered on him now. Looks held longer than they should. As if trying to see something deeper beneath his skin.
When the rain returned that afternoon, it came in short bursts, hard and loud. By then the wives were scattered through the orchard, collecting leaves, checking trap lines, reinforcing canopies. Jude helped Layla repair one of the fish-drying racks by the river. She worked in silence, arms strong, hair tied in a wet knot.
"You think it's true?" she asked suddenly, not looking at him.
He didn't answer right away. "What part?"
"That you're not really one of us."
He looked at her. Her eyes were not angry, just tired. Tired and curious.
