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Chapter 8-2
“Yeah.” He was sure Mason had more questions, so as much as he hated to do it, he managed to sit up in the sleeping bag without crushing Mason in the process. There was a chorus of creaks in the tree above them, nosy little shits that dryads were, and Jack shimmied out of the bedding, doin’ his best to keep the cold of the morning out until Mason was ready to leave it too. He needed food though and there were granola bars in his pack, callin’ his name. And instant coffee. Mason rustled around as Jack ducked around to a clump of bushes a few yards away for his morning business and when he came back, the sheriff had crawled out of the bag and was in the process of folding it up. Their eyes met when Mason glanced up at him, then back down at the thick fabric in his hands. He seemed uncertain
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