Logan crested the ridge and stopped. The high ground he'd been moving toward for three weeks stretched out before him — defensible angles, clean sightlines, a water source in the valley below. Everything he needed. But smoke rose from the center of the plateau, thin and controlled, and he counted four figures near a makeshift barrier of sheet metal and timber. He dropped to one knee behind a cluster of rocks and studied the compound. Two guard towers flanked a main gate, both patched together from scrap but solid enough to hold lookouts. The walls formed a rough square around the center of the plateau. Rust-orange and faded blue panels bolted to timber frames. A red flag hung from the taller tower on the left. The whole setup looked weeks old, maybe more. Someone had claimed this ground while he'd been mapping routes and clearing the approach. He pulled back below the ridgeline and started calculating. He could find another site, start over, lose another month. Or he could go back to Isabella with nothing but another promise. Neither option changed the fact that this spot was perfect and someone else was living in it. A wooden sign jutted from the rocks thirty feet ahead, crude letters burned into the planks: STAY OUT. Logan stared at it for a long moment, then turned and started back down the ridge. Isabella would ask if he found it. He would tell her yes, and that they needed a new plan. The settlement he'd built in his head for months belonged to someone else now, but the blueprint was still good. He just had to find another piece of ground worth defending. He pulled the scope from his pack and glassed the compound one final time. A woman emerged from the central building, rifle slung across her back. Two men followed, laughing about something he couldn't hear. They moved like people who felt safe. Logan lowered the scope and slid it back into the pack. The blueprint hadn't changed. The land had. He started down the slope, already marking alternate routes on the mental map he'd been building since this whole thing began. Isabella was waiting three miles south. She would understand what this meant. They'd done harder things than starting over.