Belle kneels at the forest edge, pressing seeds into the soft earth along the trail. Her hair shed them last night while she slept, and now she plants them where runaways might see what grows. Each flower will point the way to safety. Each flower might also point the way to discovery. She ties ribbons to the low branches next. Magenta, then blue, then orange — bright against the gray bark. The pattern repeats every third tree, leading deeper into the woods. Anyone desperate enough to run will recognize a path when they see one. So will anyone hunting them. The pavilion waits at the clearing's edge, its gold dome catching morning light. Belle drapes more ribbons across its archways, then sets a water jug and blanket on the steps. A place to rest. A sign that says someone here understands fear and offers shelter anyway. She checks the trail one last time, imagining footsteps that might follow the flowers and ribbons home. Behind her, someone coughs in the sanctuary. The sound pulls her back from the edge of doubt. Three people sleep there now, safe because she built this place and kept building. She brushes dirt from her hands and walks toward that sound, leaving the ribbons to flutter in the wind.

Belle wakes to find someone standing in the doorway, pale and shaking. Not someone who followed the flowers. Not someone who tied ribbons around their wrist as proof they'd walked the trail. Just a girl who says she dreamed of this place, dreamed of Belle's face, and followed that vision through the dark. Belle needs to understand what this means. If the flowers didn't guide her, then the system has a gap — or something else is reaching people Belle never intended to call. She asks the girl to show her where she entered the forest. The girl leads her to a clearing Belle doesn't recognize, where moonflowers have grown wild around an old garden bell half-buried in vines. Seeds Belle scattered weeks ago during an unexpected sleep, forgotten until now. The girl clutches a strange crystalline hammer in both hands, the only thing she brought from home. She says Belle appeared in her dreams three nights running, standing beside this exact bell. Belle plants more seeds deliberately around the bell and ties fresh ribbons to the surrounding trees. She marks the spot on her mental map of the forest — a new entry point she didn't plan but can't ignore. If dreams can lead people here, she needs to make sure they find clear paths once they arrive. The girl watches her work, finally loosening her grip on the hammer. Back at the sanctuary, Belle doesn't go to the wall in the back room. She sits with the girl instead, learning her story, adding her face to the collection of people who found safety here. The system isn't just what Belle built anymore. It's become something larger, something that reaches beyond ribbons and flowers into places she can't control. That should frighten her, but someone coughs softly in the next room, and another person shifts in their sleep, and Belle knows she'll walk back to that bell tomorrow and make the path stronger.