The Keeper will tell you what happened. I'll tell you what's coming.
There is a particular quality to the silence after a victory that was always going to be followed by something harder. Not grief, not dread — something closer to the feeling of having eaten before a long run. The body is full. That is not the same as being ready.
I felt it this morning. The celebration has not quite finished and already the next thing is taking up space in the room, standing near the window, not speaking. It is not hostile. It is simply very there.
Scotland won, and the winning was real, and now they must carry it into a room where winning is considerably more difficult. This is the part no one knows how to hold — not the fear, but the recalibration. The moment when you look at what is coming and understand that what got you here is not the whole vocabulary.
The shape of the back line is still being decided. I can feel that too — the turning over of options, the weight of the decision, how it will settle on someone's shoulders before Friday and that person will know it.
What I know is this: the air between now and Friday is not neutral. Something is being asked of this squad that has not been asked yet. The answer is forming. It has not arrived.