The days since Tink's unexpected shift and heat have settled into an uneasy routine. I monitor her vital signs each morning, counting the small victories—her temperature stabilizing, her appetite improving incrementally, her eyes tracking movement with more awareness than fear. The claiming bond between us pulses steadily, transmitting her emotions in waves I've learned to interpret: caution when the sons' voices carry through the house, comfort when Juan hums his three-note pattern, and ...