Pate's pov
The next day, I felt a mix of embarrassment and confusion. The memory of last night, of me throwing up before Pecan in that ridiculous drinking contest, refused to leave my mind. I had never been outdone before, and certainly not by someone so young. Yet, there it was; the cold, hard truth. Pecan had beaten me, and now I was avoiding her like a child hiding from the truth of their mistake.
Not that I'd seen her today, anyway. Word around the camp was that she was still dealing with the aftermath of that awful concoction we drank. I should have gone to check on her. She was like a daughter to me, after all. But every time I thought about it, I hesitated.
