The son did not come back from Morena.
They waited until eight in the morning. The old woman gave them chai and said nothing about her son's absence. The wife tended a small fire in the courtyard and also said nothing. Their saying nothing had the quality of people who have had practice at waiting for returns that do not come on schedule.
"We go," Aryan said at eight-fifteen.
The forestry road north of Bargawa was a single lane cut into the plateau, not paved, roughly maintained with gravel that had mostly washed to the edges. The Innova managed it. Kabir had the survey coordinates on his phone and directed them — the phone had partial signal on the plateau, enough for maps if not calls.
Tanya had not spoken in two hours. She was sitting in the back with her knees pulled up and her phone in her hands and an expression that Aryan recognised as the aftermath of a night spent thinking rather than sleeping — a specific kind of exhaustion that left the mind sharp and the eyes tired.
"The forestry road enters the ravine system at a point about four kilometres ahead," Kabir said. "Then it follows a main channel for six kilometres to where it connects with the plateau road on the south side. We'd be out of the ravine system by midday."
"How certain are you?" Priya said.
"About the route? Reasonably. About what we'll find on it—"
"The road condition," she clarified.
"Less certain."
