It starts quietly.

Too quietly.

You find Maya in the backyard late one evening, sitting on the steps with her knees pulled to her chest, staring into nothing. She doesn’t jump when you approach, but you can tell she knew you were there. She always does now.

“You move softer than you think,” she says.

You sit beside her. “You’ve been listening for danger for a long time.”

She exhales slowly. “Too long.”

There’s a long pause. Then she finally looks at you, eyes serious in a way you’ve never seen before.

“I don’t want to run anymore,” she says. “And I don’t want to freeze when they show up again.”

Your stomach tightens. “Maya…”

“I need to learn how to protect myself,” she interrupts softly. “And I trust you more than anyone. Will you help me?”