Outside, the rain had stopped. The first bus had already gone, but P2 didn’t mind the wait. He stepped into the night with the map folded in his coat, the pocket watch warm against his chest, and a whistle taught to him years ago tucked behind his teeth.

“You go,” Daddy said simply. His knuckles were like old rope, but his grip was sure. “Take the roads that scare you. Call when you can. Don’t forget how to whistle.”

“Don’t make me regret this,” Daddy said, but it was a joke and a blessing wrapped together.

“Thought you’d missed the last bus,” Daddy said, peering over the rim of his glasses. His voice was the same warm gravel it had always been—comforting, a little laugh at the edge.