The sky above the compound was a faded gray, the color of ashes washed into water. Morning prayers had ended, but the chants still lingered like smoke in the air. Leon, Wolfe, and the boy sat in the cramped room, listening to the shuffle of footsteps and muttered devotions passing by the door.
Wolfe was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, restless as always when silence stretched too long. Leon sat on the edge of the bed, hands folded, looking down at the uneven floor as if the cracks in the stone might rearrange themselves into answers.
"You're brooding again," Wolfe said, tone half-tease, half-warning.
Leon's lips twitched. "So are you. Just louder about it."
The boy chuckled faintly, though it came out brittle, like a child afraid to laugh in the wrong place. His voice cracked when he asked: "Do you really think we can stop them? Deus Canis… Saluki… all of it?"
