Mara waved a stick to knock away spiderwebs, though a few loose strands still clung to her face. She heard steps and froze; she thought she had lost the cameras. What kind of performance did they want from her? She touched a spruce tree, then plucked off a few pine needles and sniffed them. She tried to look purposeful and wise. But after a few minutes she heard a commotion back at camp, which must have been more important than she was, because the footsteps turned back and she was mercifully alone.

She followed a game trail, the sound of burbling, and found the creek quickly. It was wide and shallow with short, steep banks. Thick roots eddied the current, and gliders skidded at the smooth edges, casting shadows on the minnows that gleamed in the light.

Mara crouched and dipped her fingers in the water. There were deer tracks in the half-hardened mud, and smaller prints—raccoon maybe, or skunk. The water was gold from the tannins of old leaves, with a surface like silk ribbons. Better for drinking than the mucky water of the lake.

Something rustled behind her, and she froze again. Another camera. Did it make sense to touch the water? Was this, too, a performance? But this time the steps came closer.

“Don’t say anything.” Barely a whisper.

When Mara turned, he pressed a finger to his mouth.

It was one of the camera guys, a thin man in faded jeans, but his hands were empty. He glanced over his shoulder, then pointed to a distant grove of birch.

Mara followed him to the birch grove, out of sight of the creek. The sun through the leaves cast mottled shadows on his face. He touched her hip and she stiffened, but he had only flicked off her mic.

“How are you doing?” he said quietly. “How was your night?”

Mara tried to recall if they’d met.

“It’s me,” he said. “Tom. I gave you a burger. We talked in the gravel pit?”

“With the ex-wife?”

Tom broke into a grin. Now Mara felt oddly relieved to see him. Someone from before this place, though of course they had only met yesterday.

“It’s nice here,” she said. “These are gorgeous woods.”

Tom liked that. She knew he would. “And the other survivors?” he asked.

Mara shrugged.

“The men treating you right?”

“Bullfrog seems like he has some skills.”

Tom snorted. “Most of the crew bet he lasts the longest,” he said, and then he caught himself. “But I didn’t like the way they were talking. I told them. I put my money on you.”

“I hope I can earn a return on your investment.”

“It’s not about that.”

“I’m teasing. It’s fine.”

“It’s a good thing you have me.” He touched a hand to a holster on his waist. “Someone to watch your back. You never know up here.”

“Do you always carry in the woods?”

Tom grinned. Mara wondered how he might fancy himself. Chivalrous, watching a lady, when all she needed was to be more closely watched. But if he was talking to her, if he set his camera down, it meant he was willing to bend the rules, too. It might be good to have someone like that on her side.