He didn't answer. He carried her back to camp, the forest too quiet, the trees bending just slightly in the wrong direction as they passed. That evening, as the sun began to dip and cast long shadows through the canopy, Jude called the others together again. This time there was no pretense of normalcy. They knew something was wrong. Even the air seemed heavier.
They gathered by the main fire pit. The flames flickered low, but none of them moved to add more wood. Jude stood, hands clasped behind his back, eyes sweeping over the circle of faces he'd come to love, to rely on, to protect.
"I need all of you to tell me the truth," he said. "Has anyone else blacked out recently? Even for a moment?"
They exchanged glances, nervous, wary.
Grace shifted first. "Earlier this morning, I went to the edge of the camp to check on the drying rack. I turned around and it was like… I lost ten minutes. I thought I just daydreamed."
