DYERThe waiting does not ease with sleep.

If anything, it sharpens.

I wake before dawn, lungs tight, senses flaring as though something has brushed the edge of my awareness and withdrawn. The chamber is still. No alarm. No disturbance. Just the steady stone silence of the den and the faint sound of my own breathing, too measured, too controlled.

Another false start.

I sit up slowly, letting the moment pass without chasing it. Experience has taught me the danger of mistaking anticipation for ...