The river stones at the southern boundary had been scrubbed clean by the late-summer rains, leaving the five granite pillars gray and dry under the high noon sun. This was the exact spot where Nila had shifted for the first time five months ago, where the southern collectors had dropped their iron seals into the mud. Today, there were no spears drawn and no territorial challenges. Instead, a long trestle table made of split pine had been set up directly between the central stone markers, flanked by wooden benches that smelled of fresh cedar shavings.

Nila sat at the center of the table, her posture straight and quiet. She wore...