Tuesday, Early Morning:
Jas wakes up to the soft rustling of leaves and the gentle sound of water from the nearby river. Ivy Mae is crouched by the campfire, stirring a pot of something that smells sweet. Roman is carving a piece of driftwood with intense focus.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” Ivy Mae says, smiling warmly.
“Morning,” Jas replies, still groggy. “What’s that smell?”
“You’ll see,” Ivy Mae replies mysteriously, handing them a cup of herbal tea.