Marina knelt by the empty floorboard and stared at the hollow where her bag should be. Three years of planning, gone in one quiet afternoon. On the table behind her sat a small wrapped bundle, dropped at her door without a knock. She already knew what was inside — a piece of her mother's collection, the kind only Mia would touch. Her daughter had missed the check-in by two hours. Now this. Marina pressed her palm flat against the wood and forced her breathing slow. Somewhere out there, Mia was sending a message she couldn't yet read. She unwrapped the bundle. A small shell pendant rolled into her hand, and beneath it lay a scrap of cloth marked with a single rough sketch — a ring of stones around a dark mouth of water. Marina knew the place. The old stone sinkhole at the edge of the shore, the one she and Mia had picked years ago as their last-resort meeting point. Mia had taken the bag there. Mia was telling her where to come. Marina closed her fist around the pendant, grabbed her coat, and stepped out the door.

Marina walked fast, the pendant warm in her fist. The shore wind pushed at her coat, and her mind ran the list she always kept ready. Bandages. Water. The small knife. The folded map. All gone with the bag. She had nothing to hand Mia when they met. Nothing to set between her daughter and whoever was hunting her. Marina slowed at the bend in the path and forced herself to think. She needed to replace what was taken, and she needed to do it before the sun dropped. She cut down toward the water and found the squat boathouse she had used once before. The lock was heavy, but she knew the trick of the latch. Inside, the shelves held what working hands always kept close. Clean cloth. A coil of twine. A short blade dulled by salt but still sharp enough. She took only what she could carry and left a coin on the shelf. Outside, she sorted her finds into a battered foraging pack she pulled from a hook by the door. Cloth at the bottom. Blade wedged along the side. A small flask filled at the rain barrel. It was rough work, nothing like her old kit, but it would hold. She tightened the rope straps and shouldered it. The sun was already low when she reached the ring of stones. Marina set a small sea lantern on the lip of the sinkhole and waited. The glass warmed under her palm, then bloomed with a soft pearl light. Mia would see it. Marina sat down beside the glow, pack at her knee, and let out the breath she had been holding since morning.