Breakfast

The sun's first rays crept through the cracks of my tent, coincidently landing on my eyelids, forming a warm red glow onto my retinas.

"Wake up mudbugs," Raven shouted out, her hoarse voice pierced through the thick tent walls that were even supposed to hold Zarah's moans. Speaking of which, I don't think I heard her last night, I wonder if those two are taking a break.

We emerged one by one, a symphony of morning routines, with Esther looking impeccable, Nia still trapped in the clutches of sleep, and Oman and Zarah looking like they're trying to escape a patch of thick jungle vines as they slump through the tent door.

Raven had prepared berry fried toast for us, the slices of bread having taken a dip in a mixture of eggs, milk, sugar, and crushed berries before being fried in lard. As everyone tucked in, exclamations of delight filled the morning air. Raven's cooking, it seemed, was a hit.

Feeling my mouth water at the smell, I took a bite and my tastebuds were assaulted by a harsh, salty flavor. I quickly reached for my waterskin, taking a big gulp to wash away the unexpected taste as air came out of my lungs but was caught in my throat, pushing out the salt bomb that I had just swallowed out and ejecting it onto the dirt beside me.

Esther looked at me with concern. "Are you alright, Jasper?" she asked, her eyes filled with worry.

"I'll... I'll tell you later," I managed to respond, still trying to rid my mouth of the unpalatable taste.

Raven was giving me an inscrutable look. Was this a mistake? Or had I done something to upset her? The thought nagged at me as I returned to my meal, or rather, what was left of it.

When breakfast was over, we handed our plates back to Raven. Unlike the others, my plate was still heaped with the salty French toast, untouched after that first bite.