For the fifth time in as many minutes, Solma checks the position of the sun. Olive and Cobra should be back by now. It’s been two days since Bell found her crying in the forest and Solma’s eager to go. The cart is packed. Roseann’s directing the younger ones to ready the tents. Solma shifts her weight, restless.
Beside her, Mamba keeps trying to catch her eye but she glares steadfastly at the trees. She can’t deal with his concern right now. She’s got enough of her own.
“They’re late,” Mamba says. Solma’s scowl deepens.
“I know,” she growls. Mamba doesn’t hear the impatience in her voice.
“Where are they?” he asks.
“How should I know?”
She regrets snapping the moment the words are out of her mouth, but at least he takes the hint this time. He falls silent, hands in the pockets of his
