Elayra pulled back when Ghent stirred. Remaining crouched, she rested her hands on her knees. He wasn’t the quickest waker, but at least it didn’t take more than one attempt to get him up. 
	She rolled her eyes as his stomach contradicted Ghent’s statement. “Riiight.”
	She stood as he did. Her cloak shifted as she crossed her arms over her chest. She sighed heavily, noticing his stiff movements. If that didn’t work itself out, he’d slow them down. And the last thing she wanted was to have to spend more time in Hollow Forest than necessary.
	She glanced to the lightening forest. A couple shapes swirled in the fog, wandering almost in a confused state before vanishing.
	She turned her attention back to Ghent with a snort at his comment about the jerky. “Get used to it. There’s nothing to hunt here, anyway.” She frowned as the memory of her last kill, the deerdrin, came longingly to mind. Though she didn't mind the toatunt jerky, she'd take deerdrin instead any day. “Living animals don't come here. Even the Cursed ones are too smart for that.”
	She shrugged at his question. “[i]Felt[/i] like I was in a coma. But it worked.” She rubbed the back of her head lightly, the bump that had formed there already gone. “And it’s [i]Elayra,[/i] Featherhead,” she added, smirking to attempt hiding her annoyance at the nickname.
	She glanced to Drust as he pulled a worn hooded cowl from his bag. He let it drop beside the bundle of jerky, a piece of the cured meat in his mouth.
	She reached into her pouch again and removed the OmniChrono. “Drust.”
	As soon as he focused on her, Elayra tossed the Chrono to him.
	He caught it easily in one hand and grabbed the bundle of jerky in the other. Without missing a beat, he tossed the bundle to her. He jerked his head to Ghent as he placed the Chrono in one of the belt pouches already in their place at his waist.
	“What’s it gonna be?” She held the long bundle out to Ghent. “Breakfast, or starve until you have the time to hunt and skin something else?”
	Drust tore off the end of his jerky with his teeth. “There won’t be time,” he growled around the jerky. He closed his pack and glanced to Ghent. “Keep out a couple pieces. Put the rest in your pack.” He slipped the cowl on over his head, keeping the hood down. It matched the rest of his brown and black clothing, its once vivid coloring faded with use and age. “We’ve delayed enough as it is.”