UNDER THE DON’S PROTECTION
My steps were slow, yes, but they were intentional, each one a deliberate conversation with the earth we had healed.
Leo was standing on the balcony, his back to me. He was wearing a simple tunic of woven seagrass, his white hair caught in a short queue at the nape of his neck. He looked less like the warrior who had liberated me and more like a part of the landscape—a weathered cliff face that had seen a thousand tides and remained unbowed.
"They’ve reached the asteroid belt," he said, not needing to turn around to know I was there.
I joined him at the railing, squinting at the sky. Of course, I couldn't see the ships with the naked eye, but the knowledge of them felt like a physical presen
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