I looked over at Charlie, the sight of him standing there almost confusing me for a second. He seemed all out of place, like he’d breached some time barrier, and I was standing in the middle of two different universes. “Yeah. I’m just… I think all the events from earlier today are catching up to me. And I’m hungry. And exhausted.”

His eyes did a sweep of my body, and then he walked over to where I stood, bringing his hands to my waist and squeezing. “We have a few minutes while he’s gone,” he said, giving me a suggestive smile.

Seriously?

For a moment I considered punching him in the face. Instead, I mustered a smile, but then shrugged him off and turned toward the area where I’d been preparing to bed down. I wasn’t even vaguely in the mood for him to touch me, and it wasn’t only because he hadn’t even asked me if I was okay after stabbing a man in the neck. “I’m too starved and exhausted to think about anything other than food or sleep,” I said. “I can’t believe you have the energy for anything else either. This day feels like it’s lasted for a hundred hours.”

Charlie sighed. “I could’ve mustered some energy,” he muttered, but then he unhooked his sleeping bag and started laying it out.

It was probably a good idea just to go to sleep even though the sun hadn’t fully set. We’d eaten a can of tuna the Goodfellows had so generously given us earlier and would have to forgo dinner tonight and search for something tomorrow. The last couple of days had been warmer than when we’d started out, and so at least there was plenty of melting snow to fill our water bottles.

I startled when I heard the muted crack of gunfire. “What was that?”

Charlie stood straight and walked over to the break in the back wall, peering out at the woods. “Tuck has the gun with him. Maybe he came up on some trouble.”

My heart dipped then rose, giving me a momentary head rush. “Trouble? What kind of trouble?”

We both stood at that gap in the boards, looking out into the dwindling light like two children peeking out from under the bed, waiting for a monster to arrive. And so, when the foliage rustled and it was Tuck who stepped through the trees, the relief that overcame me was sudden and fierce. I released an exhale, my gaze going to his hand where he was carrying a dead rabbit by its ears, his other arm filled with branches. “He shot a rabbit,” I said.

“Gross,” Charlie muttered.

Tuck stopped outside the barn where he began setting up a campfire well enough away from the structure that I imagined would go up like kindling with so much as a spark.