Lucy stood at the tree line, back straight, arms folded, her gaze trained on the shadows - but even she had allowed her shoulders to loosen, her lips to twitch with a hint of amusement every time someone cracked a joke. Natalie and Stella had tucked themselves beneath a thick patch of ferns, half-clothed, half-drunk on each other's nearness, barely aware of anything else. Susan and Grace lounged on a shared blanket, Grace humming softly while Susan absentmindedly traced spiral patterns into her skin with the tip of a stick. Emma paced the perimeter, always the sentinel, but every once in a while, her eyes drifted to the firelight and lingered on the faces it illuminated.
Dinner had been light - smoked fish caught from the stream, wild root vegetables, tart little berries they'd gathered earlier in the day. Now, the firelight cast a slow pulse over the camp, painting limbs gold, catching the shine in hair, dancing across eyes filled with warmth and lingering desire.
