They had yet to lay eyes on it, but Lyubo insisted they were getting close. “These tracks couldn’t have been made more than an hour ago,” he said, gesturing at the spots in the mud. “They’re close together too, which means he’s moving slowly. We’ll catch him before we have to get back to the group.” Minawë hoped so. Everyone was counting on them. She wiped her brow. Midafternoon in the rainforest was a poor time to be active. The humidity clung to her skin, and her leather outfit gripped her in all sorts of uncomfortable ways. “Hold up,” Lyubo said. “Let’s take a break.” “And let him get farther ahead?” “He isn’t on the run. Besides, determination’s no good if it gets you killed. You’ll dehydrate tracking all day. You need to drink up.” Minawë lifted her water skin, but Lyubo put out a hand.
