It didn't take them long to return to what they called their "hideout." A partial excavation beneath a rock face, barely wider than a makeshift shelter, but it had the advantage of being dry, camouflaged, and relatively protected.
There, Élisa and Maggie gathered wood. This time, starting a fire was much easier than the previous day. The air was less saturated with moisture, as if the forest itself was offering them a reprieve. The twigs crackled quickly, and the flames rose, casting a warm, flickering glow on their faces.
The smell of grilled meat soon dominated, acrid, thick, almost overwhelming after so many hours spent hunting and fighting. Maggie busied herself around the fire with unusual concentration. She turned the pieces, monitored the juicy thighs with almost methodical precision.
She was hungry. But it was more than that. It was also a way to keep her hands occupied, to push back the residual adrenaline. To stop herself from overthinking.
