After three hours of waiting and watching, Tasha stretched. The branches bent and the leaves swayed as she balanced her leg along the bark. The soft, warm breeze caught most of the noise, but the right person, a trained person, might sense or hear her presence. The muscles in her legs ached, and her finger cramped in its position along the side of her knife. She switched off from ready position to surveillance for about the hundredth time since she’d crawled up there. The small, lightweight binoculars were infrared and long range. She’d rather have a muffin, but they did have a practical use. She scanned the trees. The ground. The distance. Nothing. A strange lack of nothing. The newest mumble of voices had disappeared fifteen minutes ago, and the sun burned through the trees, casting part of the forest floor in white spotlights and the rest in shadows. Not the best place to hide, but then again she didn’t pick this battlefield. After a few seconds of moving her legs and making sure her body parts still worked, she gathered her few possessions and dropped to the ground.
