“Somewhere ahead — eighteen days ahead, light-years ahead, a lifetime of distance that was simultaneously insignificant and infinite — the forest waited. The canopy waited. The settlement waited. Meenakshi waited, with her bark-coloured eyes and her economy of words. Trilochan waited, with his silence and his patrol stones. Govind waited, with his stories that breathed. Devraj waited, with his roots that healed. Kavitha waited, with her horses that chose. Pallavi waited, with her walkways that held. Ananya waited, with her maps that told the truth.”