The rain arrived in bursts and stayed in the soil long after each shower passed. Fresh blackberry tips appeared within days of a lane being browsed. Multiflora rose, which had looked defeated after the first pass, sent pale shoots through the old stems. Wet grass grew against the electric fence and reduced its effectiveness, leaving Nora to walk the entire line twice some mornings, clearing vegetation and listening for the familiar pulse of the charger.
The goats were less impressed with her discovery than she was. They wanted browse, not history, and when the higher leaves disappeared they worked lower. Hazel nosed around the first guard. Clover leaned against the second, testing whether it would move. Nora found the panel bent inward one morning and a fresh strip of tooth marks on the exposed bark behind it.
She felt anger before fear, directed mostly at herself. She had known the risk, built a barrier, and assumed that one inspection each day was enough. The damaged bark was narrow, but the sight of it made her think of every tree she had uncovered and every one she might yet uncover. These were not decorations to be sacrificed because her fence was inconvenient.
Nora pulled the goats from the lane before they finished it. She spent the morning moving them back to the night pen and the afternoon rebuilding both guards with stronger braces. Tess arrived to find her measuring panel openings and muttering about stubborn animals.
"The county wants a fire lane," Tess said. "Not a museum."
"And I'm trying to make sure the goats don't destroy the only things we've found worth saving."
"I know. I'm just looking at the calendar."
Nora took the ledger from Tess and checked the date. Nearly half the dry season was gone. The fire access route still stopped well short of the culvert, and the county would not care whether three trees lined up beautifully if a truck could not reach the drainage crossing. They had discovered a possible pattern at the exact moment they could least afford to follow a distraction.
"Maybe Wade's right," Nora said. "Maybe it's an old homesite. Three shade trees and a buried fence."
"Then we still have to get through it," Tess answered.
"I don't want to lose the lane over something that isn't there."
"You don't have to decide today whether it's there. Just don't forget where the trees are."
Nora borrowed a clean section of pasture from a neighboring farmer for a week and moved the herd off the property. Mercy's cut had healed, but two animals had rubbed raw patches on their shoulders against thorny openings, and the equipment needed attention. She checked every length of netting, replaced damaged stakes, and tightened the guards. Without the goats, the new growth returned quickly. Within days, the openings between the trunks filled with green, and the first tree became difficult to see from the second.