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"Because you wanted to see if he'd catch it?" suggests Orin.

"No." Rhyven answers.

"To test reflexes?" Orin tries again.

"No." Rhyven looks toward Elias. "You caught it with your injured hand." Elias looks down. Only then does he realize. His left wrist has begun trembling. "You told me yesterday that injury healed."

Elias' expression falls. "I thought it had." His voice is quiet.

"You hoped." A pause. "Different."

The lesson lands quietly. Rhyven takes the apple back. "Observation isn't collecting details." He tosses it once in his hand. "It's recognizing which details matter."

Five minutes later— Another apple. This one flies toward Mira. She squeaks. Drops it. The apple bounces harmlessly into the grass.

Mira immediately apologizes. "I'm sorry."

"What for?" Rhyven asks.

"I..." She stops. "Dropping it?" She's unsure.

"I threw it." Rhyven says. She blinks. "You reacted exactly as expected." She looks confused. "So why apologize?" Mira opens her mouth. Closes it. Rhyven waits.

Eventually she answers softly, "Habit."

He nods. "Observe that." Nothing more. No lecture. No reassurance. Just two words. Observe that.

I glance toward Mira. She has stopped apologizing. We reach a wide overlook where the cliffs fall away toward the dragon valley. The clouds have lifted enough to reveal enormous stone platforms carved into the mountainside below. Several dragons rest there, wings folded against their bodies. Others launch into the open air, disappearing into the mist with effortless power. Rhyven says nothing. He watches us watching them. Then quietly asks, "What changed?" No one understands. He points toward the valley. "What changed?" I scan the cliffs. Platforms. Dragons. Mist. Pines. Wind. Everything appears— Wait.

"The eastern platform."

Rhyven looks toward me. "What about it?"

"There were four dragons." I point. "Now there are three."

He nods once. "What else?"

"The mist shifted."

"What else?" He asks Selena.

"One of the dragons moved higher." She says.

He repeats. Again. Again. Again. The question begins irritating everyone. Including me. Eventually we identify nine changes. The wind. Birds. A fallen branch. Fresh claw marks on a landing platform. A broken railing farther down the path. Every answer receives the same response.

"What else?"

Finally— I fold my arms. "There isn't anything else."

Rhyven studies me for one long moment. Then very slowly walks toward the edge of the overlook. Points upward. High above us. To a narrow pine tree growing from the cliff face.

I follow his finger. Nothing. "What?" I ask.

"The nest." I squint. Hidden among the branches sits a tiny woven nest I would never have noticed. "It's new."

I stare. "That's ridiculous."

"No."