The rest of the day disappeared into motion and planning.
They didn't rush it. They couldn't afford to. Reva and Requiem moved back and forth between the market and the nomad zone, filling in gaps, confirming rumors, discarding half the information they gathered and cross-checking the rest. By the time the light above ground had shifted toward evening, they had routes marked that avoided permanent checkpoints, service corridors that stayed unmonitored after dark, and stretches where patrol schedules overlapped badly enough to create blind windows.
They knew where inspections happened for show and where they happened for real. They knew which zones relied on automated sweeps and which ones still trusted human judgment. They finalized what they would carry, what they would abandon, and where they would stop only if something went wrong.
Night was the decision. Movement after sunset cut attention in half and made mistakes easier to hide.
Everything was ready except Reva.
