When a wife couldn't remember exact position, another stepped forward. No judgment. No condescension. Only soft guidance.
When they'd finished in afternoon light, the bark-map lay complete and alive. The watchers remained outside, silent silhouettes anchored in memory.
Grace exhaled: "It feels like a promise."
Lucy traced the lines. "Like a compass."
Emma added waterlines: "Like a home."
Jude stood and pressed his palms to the map. "We will not wander blind anymore."
They sealed the map in a bark wrapper and stored it beside the record box. Two anchors: memory and physical map tied together.
That night they did not share ritual or circle. Instead they placed small candles at each node's marker stake in the camp perimeter: stake, clearing, fish trap, ridge path, palm pool. As each was lit, Grace whispered name vow, Lucy called memory vow. Others repeated. Then they returned to camp.
