Jake's pov
We tracked the Woodpeckers through the remainder of the night and well into grueling heat of the following afternoon.
We didn't stop for food nor for rest.
The only thing keeping us grounded was a single can of water Ferah had brought and it was almost gone.
Ferah insisted we stay in our human forms.
"We don't shift until we have to fight," She'd said.
The silence was only broken by the occasional grunt of effort and the clumsy stumble of Ron. At one point, a crying ston caught Ron right on the ankle. He let out a yelp that echoed too loud.
Ferah didn't even turn. "Make that sound again and I'll give you something worse to cry about."
Ron clamped his mouth shut immediately, limping slightly as he caught up.
After a while, the silence stretched too long.
Ron glanced at Ferah, then back at me, then finally spoke. "Aren't you cold?"
Ferah didn't look at him. "No. Why would you think so?"
"Because your... attire... it doesn't necessarily cover much."
