Beth nods--he gets it, even if he might not be inclined to pause for lunch any more than she is. If they're going to stop, they're going to stop for something to keep them going longer later. "If we don't eat, all those squirrels are going to go to waste," she says, her mouth curving up a little. The meat they have is gamy, not likely to agree with any of their sick comrades' stomachs. "Nobody in that tent can eat them right now."

And they've put enough work into catching them that they really should be eaten. She starts off toward the mess tent, assuming he'll follow.