Jude didn't sleep. Not even a blink. He remained seated near the window of the upper treehouse chamber, his back pressed against the smooth bark wall, one hand resting on the wooden staff he'd carved long ago, more as a tool for hiking than fighting, but it had since become something of a companion. Through the narrow slit he watched the jungle canopy, the shadows between the trees never quite still, and the occasional flicker of something moving just outside his field of vision. The others had fallen asleep, most out of sheer exhaustion. A few, like Grace and Scarlett, had taken longer, tossing and turning, whispering to themselves. But even they eventually gave in. The silence inside the shelter was interrupted only by the slow, heavy rhythm of breathing. The silence outside was worse.