We move in the rhythm of the earth, each of us a stone in the circle of the grove. Each patrol is split into small bands of four, a kinship of warriors who know the paths by heart. We mark the stones with fire‑stained clay, and at dusk we shout the name of the beast that roams at night – it is a warning to those who do not listen. We keep a line of spears at the border, like a living fence, and we watch the shadows that fall across it. When one of us feels the wind shift or hears a distant cry, the others answer with the same voice, so the whole band is always in sync. That is how we keep the grove safe, a steady rhythm of eyes and ears that never rests.

A quick rotation will keep our eyes sharp, yes. We share the burden, so the fire never goes out in our hands. Keep the stones marked and the rhythm steady, and the spirits will watch over us.

We do not need praise, only duty. The stones speak, the spirits watch, and we stand as one. Thank you for remembering that.