The path through the forest at night.
They walked in a loose line — the five women ahead, Jacob behind, the torchlight from the lantern he had grabbed from the hut casting long shadows through the trees.
He was looking at the shadows.
That was what he was telling himself.
The shadows were interesting. The forest at night was interesting. The path was interesting. The particular way that five women walk single-file on a forest path at night when they are wearing makeshift clothing that involves a great deal of fabric movement with each step was absolutely not something he was cataloguing.
He was cataloguing it completely.
The swinging of Nara's hips. The particular density of Marla's stride — angry and purposeful, the walk of a woman who is going somewhere and not enjoying who is behind her. Celia's loose, easy gait. Gia's smaller steps. Fatima's—
He breathed out.
"Thank you, grandma," he said, quietly.
To the forest.
To the night.
