Grace added: "They will part. Let us through. We have walked their markers. They know we carry memory."
The wives exchanged quiet glances, fear and expectancy trembling beside trust.
That night, everyone slept near the glyph-well, drawn close by its faint glow and slow pulse. Jude and Grace lay close; he held her hand until dawn.
Morning found them ready with bundles and supplies. Each wife took a flute or drum or small whistle to sing on the walk. Each wore a ribbon tied through hair. Even the children watched from behind sari-draped shoulders, wide-eyed.
They stepped through the orchard's west–border, where mist had grown thick over night. At first the watchers receded. Then parted. Path cleared before them.