Mudjaw heard them before sunrise. The sound of boots on wet ground. The clink of metal against metal. He rose from the mud at the heart of the hollow, water sliding off shoulders that had no fixed shape. They were back again, and this time they brought bright lights and measuring tools. The white truck sat parked at the edge of the trees, its roof rack loaded with equipment. Two men hammered bright orange stakes into the soft earth near the old cypress stand. They stretched yellow tape between the markers, carving invisible lines through his home. Mudjaw watched from the shallows as they worked, their voices low and businesslike. They weren't scared. They didn't know to be scared. He sank deeper into the water until only his eyes remained above the surface. The decision settled in his chest like a stone dropping to the bottom of a deep pool. Warnings were done. He moved through the water without sound. The men had set up their measuring device on three legs, a yellow instrument with a glass eye that stared across the hollow. One man bent over it, adjusting knobs. The other called out numbers. Mudjaw rose behind the truck, mud streaming from his form. He wrapped both hands around the front bumper and pulled down. Metal groaned. The frame bent. Tires sank into earth that had been solid a moment before. The ground opened beneath the vehicle like a mouth, swallowing it to the axles. Both men turned and saw him fully for the first time. They ran. Mudjaw let them go, but he kept their measuring tools, dragging the yellow device into the deep water where the hollow had no bottom. This time, he wanted them to know what it cost to come back. He stood at the base of the great hollow tree, the one that had been here longer than any road, longer than any truck. Its roots spread through the mud like veins. The men had driven their stakes ten feet from its trunk. They would have cut it down or paved around it. Mudjow pressed his palm against the bark. The tree stood silent, but he felt the question in his own chest. Next time they came, would he let them run? He pulled his hand away. The answer was already there, dark and settled. They would come back with more men, more machines. And when they did, he would be waiting. This time, not everything would walk away.