The Long Game
By day, you point out elk tracks and name every wildflower. By night, after Sasha's breathing slows, you slip their notebook free and photograph each page by red headlamp. The pages bloom with coordinates, mineral assays, projected yields.
But Sasha lingers longer at the fire now, asks questions that aren't survey questions. Where did you grow up? What scares you? You answer carefully, and wonder—watching their eyes catch the flame—whose game is actually being played.