Dusk fell, and filming wrapped up.
The tarpaulin covering the equipment was pulled off and rolled up.
The scaffolding was half dismantled, its remaining crossbars standing in the snow.
The crew stacked crates on the wagon beds, padding each layer with straw.
Those carrying the equipment left first, walking single file and stepping in the same tracks.
Kiyoshi stood at the perimeter, watching them arrange everything neatly.
Two lamps still burned at the far end of the set, lighting a row of partially dismantled scaffolding. The night scenes were scheduled for tomorrow.
He had laid out the site. One sentry line outside, another inside.
The booklet clearly recorded who stood at each post, when they changed shifts, and who replaced them.
He had set the password. It changed every three days, and the method for changing it existed only in the booklet. This one was only on its second day.
He walked from the east end to the west end, calling roll at both posts.
The sounds of the shift changes reached him on schedule, east first, then west. Both matched.
As the crew dispersed, Koyuki stood beneath a lamp. She held a bowl of water without drinking. The pendant around her neck was the one she had taken back from the table herself.
Kiyoshi glanced her way.
The wind died down for a moment, letting the sounds of camp reach his ears.
Everything they had taken down had been checked against its number. He had counted once, and the totals matched.
The crew crouched beside the wagons, eating dry rations in silence. Someone finished, folded the wrapping paper, and tucked it away.
Just then, a signal sounded along the sentry line.
Three slow, one quick.
It came from beyond the tents. No one should have answered there.
Kiyoshi stopped