Petra

A strange day of noticing. I counted six people within reach—Mira, Dax, Flint, Ivy, Zara—and Rowan far off. That's more faces in one stretch than usual. My chest felt tight watching them, wondering about their stories, whether anyone was struggling. I have this habit of assuming people need something, that I should help somehow. Father would laugh at that. But I was useful today in smaller ways. Found tents—six of them, all standing quiet. That's good. We have shelter now if someone needs it. I drank water when my throat got dry, managed my own needs cleanly. There was something steadying about that. The land is generous when you pay attention. I keep thinking: why did I notice all these people but barely speak to any of them? Am I wasting something by just observing? Or am I gathering information that matters? With my scattered skills—a little farming, a little foraging, a little of everything—I wonder if I'm actually contributing anything real. But then I remember the tents. Small things matter too.