Page 60 of Easy, Tiger

The idea sparks something competitive in my chest. After all this time of feeling hunted, the prospect of turning the tables appeals to me.

"I can help establish the false patterns," I offer. "Leave obvious signs, make it blend in as regular hiking routes."

Owen nods approvingly. "You'd need to be visible enough to be photographed, but not so obvious it borders on being staged."

"I've been performing for cameras my whole career. However, usually with better lighting and fewer death threats."

"This isn't a joke, Halsey."

"I'm not joking. I'm tired of being the helpless civilian everyone needs to protect. If I can help mislead this bastard, I want to do it."

Owen considers this, then starts marking the map with quick strokes. "Three false routes. We'll need to make them pass for legitimate, with some regular foot traffic and dropped gear to suggest frequent use."

"How often?"

"Two to three days should establish the pattern. Then we see if our photographer takes the bait."

I review the marked trails, already planning my performance. "What about Nolan?"

"Let’s call Nolan," Owen suggests, reaching for his radio. "This affects him more than anyone."

The radio sputters to life, and Nolan's voice comes through clear despite the static. "What's the situation?"

"Halsey found evidence of surveillance," Owen reports. "Multiple observation points, professional setup. She's proposing we establish false hiking patterns to mislead whoever's watching."

Nolan's warm chuckle filters through the speaker. "Of course she is. Put her on."

Owen hands me the radio. "He wants to talk to you directly."

"Nolan, I know what you're thinking⁠—"

"I'm thinking you're brilliant," his voice cuts through my defensive tone. "Quick thinking, tactical instincts. You're fully adapting to this world now, Halsey, while actively helping defend it."

A flush of pride warms my face at the praise. "Thank you. That means everything, coming from you."

"Owen briefed you on the plan?"

"Three false routes, establish regular patterns over a few days. Make our photographer waste resources chasing nothing."

"Smart. When do you start?"

I glance at Owen, who inclines his head in silent agreement, urging me forward. "Today, if that works. No point giving them time to adjust their surveillance."

"Be safe out there." That protective edge I've grown to love creeps into every word. "Remember what we practiced. Emergency signals, safe zones, how to read the forest for threats."

"Trust me, I memorized every word. Emergency whistle patterns, reflection signals with my compass mirror. I know better than to wander past the boundaries we set."

"And if something feels wrong?"

"Trust my instincts and get out immediately." I smile despite the radio between us. "You trained me well, Maren."

Owen takes back the radio. "We'll coordinate with the enclave, make sure everyone knows about the false routes."

"Good. Halsey, I mean it—be safe."

"Always am."

The next two days blur into a tightly managed performance. Staggering my departures onto the false routes, I scatter staged evidence of frequent use—a fallen water bottle here, a tattered scrap of trail tape there—making sure I’m spotted often enough to register while keeping my presence casual and unforced. By the time the weekend arrives, I've almost convinced myself I actually am purely a woman out sketching birds, nothing more.