They walked.
The forest interior received them with the specific, immediate density of a tropical morning — the canopy closing above, the light going green and filtered, the ground soft and dark and smelling of the night's moisture still burning off.
He was ahead.
Nara at his shoulder. The specific, proprietary position she had established since the morning on the ship and which she had reclaimed, Celia noted, within approximately thirty seconds of the group forming.
The other four women behind them.
