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Giving up, she swung her legs out of bed and pushed through the tent flap.

The more temperate air outside was an immediate relief. A soft breeze whispered through the branches of the surrounding pines. There was no other sound from the forest. Not so much as a chirp or hoot disturbed the quiet—only the low buzz of insects.

Flowers sat on a stone by the entrance to the tent with his rifle leaning beside him, whistling tunelessly. The lantern at his feet had been turned down to a glimmer.

“Bad dream?” he asked.

“I just needed a little fresh air,” Ellie mumbled in reply.

“Everybody’s having bad dreams,” Flowers noted authoritatively. “This place has got the bad wind.”

He waved a hand which took in the camp and the oddly silent woods around it.

“Can I just… sit out here a little while?” Ellie asked.

“There’s plenty of rock.” Flowers scooted over to make room for her.

Relieved, Ellie plopped down beside him. She would need more rest in order to have the energy for the next day’s trek—especially if their captors once more insisted on sticking her on a mule—but she couldn’t bring herself to go back into the stuffy atmosphere of the tent just yet. Sitting outside in the dark with Flowers was surprisingly agreeable. The big man wasn’t like the other guards Jacobs had hired for the expedition. If Ellie had to guess, Flowers had been picked out for the job purely on the basis of his size.

She could almost pretend that Flowers was there to guard herfromthings, rather than to hold her captive.

Someone flopped over in the hammock which hung nearest to them. His form was obscured by the pale fall of a mosquito net. A frustrated grunt from the vicinity sounded distinctly of Mendez.

“Bad dreams for you too, bali?” Flowers asked.

“None of your business,” Mendez retorted.

A scream broke the silence of the night.

Mendez shot upright in his hammock. Flowers rose instinctively, drawing the rifle into his arms. Ellie stood with him, grabbing the lantern as she rose. Her pulse jumped at the terrible urgency of the sound.

The scream came again, sounding from the shadowy trees to their left—and then stopped abruptly.

Too abruptly.

Ellie and Flowers exchanged a look.

“Don’t you two even think about it,” Mendez barked at the pair of them as he flailed to get out of his mosquito net.

“Stay here, Pepa,” Flowers ordered, and then ran into the darkness.

Ellie hesitated for only a breath before bolting after him, with Mendez’s curses echoing behind her.

The lantern provided her with a halo of golden illumination as she raced through the trees after Flowers. She could still clearly recall the direction from which the sound had come. The source of it could not be far.

Flowers slowed, holding the rifle ready in his hands. That in itself was unusual for Flowers, who usually treated the gun more like a casual accessory. He glanced over to Ellie as she arrived with the lantern. He shook his head in disapproval, but didn’t try to order her to go. Instead, he shifted the rifle to one hand and pulled his machete from its sheath.

The knife was a bit longer than Adam’s, and had obviously been well cared for… though it was not quite as nicely formed, in Ellie’s admittedly inexpert opinion.

“Know how to use this?” Flowers asked.

“Um…” Ellie eyed the enormous blade as she weighed her well-justified feelings of intimidation against a deep curiosity about what it would feel like to carry it. She extended her hand. “Yes.”

Flowers passed her the knife and steadied his grip on the gun, continuing quietly and carefully through the forest.

Ellie followed. The weight of the machete was strange in her hand. It was heavier than she’d thought it would be. How did Adam toss his own knife around so easily?

She considered what she’d seen of his well-muscled, constantly exposed forearms and supposed she had her answer.