Once night fell, they dined without words. Root caps and fish steamed. Their bodies felt hungry, their minds full. The forest sang around them: life renewed after rain.
After eating, they formed the circle. No torches, only prisms of firelight reflecting from wet leaves.
Jude raised his head. "Tonight," he said, "we speak again, freely. Without fear."
Lucy leaned forward. "We speak to our watchers."
Grace unwrapped her burned knife. "We speak to the island."
They shared bits of story, each wife spoke of fears, dreams, hopes reborn. Jude recounting his first glimpse of the shell beneath the island's crust. They spoke laughter with tears and tears with laughter. They confessed a dozen small memories regained. The forest around them listened.
