After Helene, the Eastern phoebe returned to the creek-bank ledge where her nest had been and began again with wet moss. The woodland salamander moved through a forest floor that no longer existed as it had, relearning the map of his own home. The black bear, in the weeks before hibernation, ranged beyond the debris fields that had swallowed her pantry. And the old mussels who still remained held on in the Catawba, just as they have since the eels left — filtering what comes through. All of us were there and are here, reorganizing around what remains and imagining what the world could become.