Kitchen Patrol
The camp sounded different at night. Quieter—but not silent. Iris lay on her back, staring up through the mesh panel at the top of the tent. They’d rolled back the rain cover earlier when Ashton said the skies would stay clear. Now the stars stretched overhead—sharp, endless, indifferent. Beside her, Sadie slept on her side, one arm tucked under her head, breathing slow and even. Completely out. Iris envied that. She shifted on her thin cot, listening to the distant murmur of low voices, the crackle of a dying fire somewhere beyond their row of tents. A baby cried briefly. Someone coughed. Fabric rustled in the wind. Her body was tired. Her mind wasn’t. Everything from the past few days pressed in at once—Dr. Mara, the pieces, the way Elias had looked at her before they left the sa
- Writer
