Marcus pokes his head through the tent flap. "Taking the sled to pick up the firewood." His breath clouds in the cold air. "Greg's got a good pile going, but it's too far to carry."
"Be careful out there." The words slip out before I can stop them. He's more than capable of handling himself, but after everything we've seen lately, caution feels necessary.
He nods once before disappearing into the growing darkness. The runners of the sled scrape against packed snow as he moves away from camp.
The percolator starts to bubble, filling the tent with the rich aroma of coffee. My stomach growls. Trail mix and jerky only go so far.
Through my bond with Selene, I feel her satisfaction. Whatever she's tracking, she's getting closer. Her excitement bleeds into my own awareness, making it hard to focus on the mundane task of stirring the stew.
"The others seem to have found something good," Vanessa says, noticing my distraction. "Selene, too?"
