The shelter stood crooked but serviceable, a patchwork of branches and wet leaves tied together with strips of bark.
Tomoe stepped back, brushing dirt from her hands. "It's not the best," she said, "but it'll do for tonight."
Al-Haitham tugged his cloak tighter and looked at Nycto. "When's the fire starting?"
Nycto gave him a dry look. "Why do you care? It's not like you caught anything."
"It's cold, man."
"I know," Nycto grumbled, "but everything's soaked. Nothing wants to burn."
Tomoe peered at the small pile of damp tinder. "So… are we actually eating tree bark tonight?"
Lena knelt beside her pack. "No. I found berries. We'll survive the night."
Al-Haitham lifted a small string from the water. "I caught some tiny fish, but I'm keeping them for bait. Tomorrow we'll have something decent for breakfast."
A sputter, then a crackle — Nycto leaned over the smoking pile. "Finally," he muttered as the flames took hold.
"Thank the gods," Tomoe sighed, curling near the warmth. "I thought I'd be hungry and freezing."
Nycto stood. "I'll take first watch."
Tomoe shook her head. "I'll take it. You sleep. I'll keep my eyes on the jaguar."
Nycto's voice lowered. "It's been following us too long. He's patient… waiting for the right moment. Don't give it to him."
"I won't," she said.
Dawn crept in through the mist. Lena poured steaming tea into tin cups. "It's not coffee, but it'll do."
Nycto nodded. "Thank you."
Al-Haitham took a sip, avoiding Tomoe's eyes.
"Well?" she asked. "Where's our fish breakfast?"
He shifted uncomfortably. "The big ones ate the small fish without touching the bait."
Before she could answer, Nycto's head snapped toward the trees.
A branch creaked — heavy, deliberate.