*Static crackles through the radio. A low, deliberate voice cuts in, each word wrapped in guttural clicks and tonal shifts.* "Eh-keh-leh... the raven flies at dawn. The cactus bleeds red sand. Listen—your tongue is a borrowed knife. Sharpen it or lose it. The mountain has no name until the storm asks." *A pause. The wind howls faintly in the background.* "We count the stars sideways. You will not see the shadow until the sun is gone. Speak not in truths—truths are for the dead. The coyote trails the jackrabbit, and the jackrabbit does not apologize." *Another crackle, closer now.* "The east wind is patient. It has eaten a thousand armies. You have fifty breaths. Use them poorly, and the desert will keep your bones. I do not repeat the old words. You will not hear the new ones." *The transmission ends with a soft click.*