It was dawn and the sun’s ray casted long shadows across the ancient books scattered on the table. Rachel sat among them with her hands moving methodically as she flipped through pages and her brow was furrowed in concentration. The weight of the pack’s survival, of Gilly’s fate, and of Zone’s worsening condition, seemed to press down on all of us, but Rachel carried it with quiet determination.

I stood near the door, pacing as I waited for her to find something—anything—that could guide us.

“How much longer?” I asked, trying to keep the impatience from my voice.

Rachel didn’t look up. “As long as it takes,” she said. “These...