Nick's POV
I heard the sound of pounding... soft and rhythmic. I opened my eyes to find Georgia crouched near the fire. Steam curled from the can in front of her, carrying a scent that made my stomach twist. Whatever she was brewing, it wasn't going to taste good.
She was still in her underwear, soaked from the rain. Beside her, a banana leaf overflowed with herbs and leaves. How the hell did she gather that much in the dark and rain?
I noticed it was still night. I forced myself to stand and walk toward the firewood. She was so focused on grinding leaves with determined hands that she didn't hear me until I dropped twigs into the fire.
She gasped. "Nick! What are you doing? Get back to bed!" Her tone was sharp, but beneath it was something soft. Worry. Care.
"I feel a little stronger. The coconut helped," I murmured. "Besides, if this fire dies, we'll be in trouble. It's hard enough to light it when everything's wet."
