Beth's thought wander sometimes when she's working--toward what's going on in camp, what's going on at home, away from home again--but her hands have come to know what they're doing. Even in heavy gloves, it's possible to learn to feel your way through the steps of each trap. She's done it before, but today, she's not thinking about anything, just staring into the middle distance.

"Huh?" She glances up at Daryl, but his face doesn't give anything away. And then down at her trap, where she's made a mess of a knot. She's not sure how it happened, but it's bad, and her index finger's holding it together--at least partially. "Oh. Dang."

The realization doesn't feel as immediate as usual, like she's looking at somebody else's hands tangled up in wire.