# Interlude — Chapter 21: Weather Keeper
A rooftop observer writes the sky’s diary; barometer, cloud base, and the smell that means thunder soon. The moment that matters is small: a tool passed without a word, a gate left unlatched on purpose, a rhythm tapped twice then held, as if to say *I am here, and I remember you*.
Somewhere beyond the next ridge the Beast clicks through its loops, counting what it can count. Here, someone counts something else—breaths before a brave act, seeds before a season, the seconds between lightning and sound—and writes the number down where only human eyes would think to look.
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American Prophet 