Sanders made a small sound, and she focused on his face. He lay with his eyes half-closed. “You doing okay, Sergeant?”

He fully opened one eye to look at her before half closing it again. “Just thinking about God’s purpose for my life. Wondering if I’ve been on the right track.”

“Been there, done that, sir.” She blew at a bug that insistently hovered in front of her nose. “It’s how I ended up in the jungle.”

“What a coincidence,” he said. “Same here.”

The brush ahead parted, and Swanson jogged up to them. “Passed Ozzy and company just ahead. They’re doing okay,” he said. “McBride’s rigging the cricket. Clear ahead so far.”

Captain Norton nodded, then gestured with his head toward her, instructing Swanson to relieve her. She wanted to put her chin up and tell him she had it handled, but her smaller frame and shorter stride slowed them down, and right now they needed speed more than she needed to prove her ability to carry a man twice her weight through the underbrush.

As soon as Swanson took the stretcher handles from her, she shook her hands to loosen the muscles and get blood flowing back into her fingertips, then snatched her medical kit off her patient’s legs.

“Go ahead and get in front of us,” Swanson said. “If something happens to you and you’re behind us, we’d never know.”

She had a feeling he’d intended to tease her with the last line, but he also meant it. It made her chuckle.

Captain Norton stared at her, his expression blank, as if evaluating her as a factor in his tactical calculations. “Pick up a stick or twig or branch or something. Wave it in front of you as you walk. You know. Spiderwebs.”

Her eyes widened. She went to break a thin branch from a nearby tree, and Swanson hissed, halting her. “Don’t do that,” he said. “Pick up something off the ground.”

Right. She would have just marked their trail. Feeling foolish, she picked up a small stick, rubbed her shoulder against her sweaty temple, then pushed through the vegetation, waving the stick in front of her like a wand. As she passed Captain Norton, she paused and slapped his cheek.

His eyes hardened, and she held up her palm. “Got it,” she said, showing him the smashed mosquito.

“A warning next time would be not only appreciated but highly recommended,” he said in a quiet voice. Then he added, “Thank you.”

She smiled. “Happy to slap you anytime, Captain.”

“Likewise, I’m sure.” His beard twitched, and she wondered if he fought a smile. “Careful going, Doc. We’re not trying to mark our trail.”

She knew that, of course. She understood the logic and the reasoning. Instead of replying, she swiped at the sweat on her brow and carefully moved a large leaf out of her way.