He didn’t know what they expected from him. The initial shock had worn off, and now he saw the situation for what it was. Roar and Aria had left; they would go to the Horns to find Liv and the Still Blue. Soon they’d return, and that was all. It had to be. He wouldn’t let himself think beyond that.

Supper was late that night—they’d lost three cooks to Wylan’s group—and the cookhouse was strangely empty and quiet. Perry didn’t taste his food, but he ate because the tribe watched him. Because he had to show them that things might have changed but tomorrow would still come.

Reef fell in step with him as he left the cookhouse and headed for the eastern lookout. Perry sensed Reef working up the courage to say something as they walked. Hands curling into fists, he waited to be told he needed sleep, or more patience, or both.

“Terrible supper,” Reef said at last.

Perry let out a breath, the tension seeping out of his fingers. “Could’ve been better.”

Reef looked up to the sky. “You feel it?”

Perry nodded. The sting in the back of his nose warned him that another storm wouldn’t be far off. “Almost always now.”

The Aether flowed, corded and angry, giving the night a blue, marbled glow. After the storm, the calm skies had only held for a day. Now there was little difference between day and night anymore. Days were darkened by clouds and the blue cast of Aether. Nights were brightened by the same. They flowed together, the edges blurring into an endless day. An ever night.

He looked at Reef. “I need you to send a message.”

Reef raised his eyebrows. “To?”

“Marron.” Perry didn’t want to ask for help from him again—he’d done it only months ago when he’d sought refuge there with Roar and Aria—but the Tides’ position was too weak. He needed food and he needed people. He’d ask for a favor before he saw his tribe starve or lose the compound in a raid.

Reef agreed. “It’s a good idea. I’ll send Gren first thing tomorrow.”

Even after he and Reef showed up to relieve them, Twig and Gren remained at the watch post, huddled at the edge of a rocky overlook. The four of them sat together in comfortable silence as a fine mist began to fall.

Hyde and Hayden arrived soon after, Straggler trailing behind them. They had the night off watch, all three. Perry had seen Hyde yawn half a dozen times during supper. They settled themselves along the lookout, watching as the mist thickened to rain. Still no one spoke, or left.

“Quiet night,” Twig said finally. “We’re quiet, I mean. Not the rain.” His voice sounded raspy and hoarse after the long stretch of silence.

“You eat a frog, Twig?” Hayden asked.