After we got back to the camp Marvel made a fire, I picked out what we would eat, and Cato sharpened his spears and swords some more.
The boy from three is sitting alone in the corner of the tent, trembling. We already have the bomb set up, why do we still keep him around? I thought to myself, but knew not to say out loud.
We had just finished eating our beans and mashed potatoes when Marvel jumped up from his seat.
Cato and I both stare at him, confused, until we see what he is pointing to in the forest. Smoke. From a fire. Two of them. I slyly grin, but then I realize something, something bad.