At night, Tilan, Ores, and the newly acquainted Sura sat by the campfire.
The wood in the jungle was quite damp, sending up curling white smoke as it burned. The sections occasionally bubbled slightly, emitting a sizzling sound.
Beside the campfire was a slab laid askew, upon which were yellowing, hard flatbreads that released a faint aroma when roasted.
Ores was currently lying sideways next to Tilan, her head resting on the girl's lap, her arms slightly folded as she slept soundly. Her silver hair fell across her fair neck and the grass leaves, reflecting a faint halo in the firelight.
Occasionally, Tilan poked the fire with a twig while conversing with Sura opposite her. At that moment, Sura was fiddling with the musket in her hands, seemingly maintaining or repairing it.
"Did you make the gun yourself?" Tilan asked, looking curiously at the musket with the wooden stock through the fire.
