Chapter 8

While there was still daylight, Denis had scouts checking a short way into the woodland, looking for signs that anyone was lying in wait, and identifying potential trouble spots.

Efren clasped Denis’s shoulder. “I’ll leave you to it.”

All around him, people were busy erecting tents, building fires in the pits, and laying out their dinner, such as it was. The jerky and dried apples wouldn’t compare favorably to the lunch spread, but it would fill their bellies and replenish their energy.

* * * *

Marcelo

Marcelo wasn’t so much sore as he was weary. He’d spent enough time in the saddle that his muscles were used to that exercise. He rubbed the back of his neck after placing the stack of folded picnic blankets in the back of a supply wagon.

Around him, others were winding down, too, except for the security force. Some had retired already, to get in their sleep before later shifts, and others had spread out and were patrolling the campground’s borders.