The sun was pretty much on its last legs, bleeding out all over the sky—orange, red, like it couldn't decide whether to burn out or throw one last tantrum.
Shadows crawled across the dirt, stretching way too long, like they had somewhere better to go. I could already hear the tribe's fire popping and snapping off in the distance, flickering at the edge of the dark, daring it to come closer.
Night was basically right there, behind you, waiting. Any minute now, everyone would be huddled around that fire, faces flickering in the light, voices low and weirdly hypnotic, the whole place smelling like sweat, roasting meat, and that weird animal smell nobody ever mentions but everyone knows.
Kerry, on my side, didn't seem to care. She didn't flinch at the stickiness on her fingers, didn't wipe them on the grass or rinse them in the nearest stream.
