The distress on Ghent’s face at her comment about hunting gave Elayra pause. Remembering a conversation they'd had back on Earth, she let out a low groan as Ghent took the bundle from her.
	“Right,” she began through a sigh. “You've never hunted before.” She watched him take out more pieces of the jerky than she expected. He must’ve been extra hungry.
	Her brows furrowed in confusion when he returned the remaining cloth-wrapped bundle to her instead of taking it and adding it to his pack as Drust had instructed. She took it nonetheless, trying to figure out what he was doing. When he tossed most of what he had grabbed into his backpack, realization dawned.
	“For [i]real,[/i] Featherhead?” she groaned as Drust growled softly and ran a hand down his face. “How hopeless [i]are[/i] you?”
	She [i]really[/i] hoped incompetency wasn’t contagious
	An involuntary snarl on his face, Drust’s neck twitched. He took a deep, steadying breath and closed his eyes as Ghent rambled on about the toatunt jerky.
	Elayra rolled her eyes at Ghent and went to her rugged pack. “What do you expect from toad meat?”
	Drust’s lips tightened into a pale line. “Elayra!” he growled.
	The girl sucked in a breath and spun toward him, hand moving to the hilt of her sword beneath her cloak. She opened her mouth to ask what [i]she’d[/i] done, but then realized. He’d tried to keep that bit of information from Ghent the other night. And likely for good reason.