Jakob waved off the attempt at an addition to the fire. It wouldn't make the water boil that much more quickly. But then, that was Derek's way - always wanting things to go faster, get there sooner, rush toward their doom sort of thoughts. It wasn't something Jakob intended to have in his life and he did his best to undermine whatever Derek did that was against Jakob's timeline.

Of course, if Jakob had had anything but the nonchalant, comfortable pair of shoes personality that he did, Derek and he may have had words over it. As it was, the others chose to follow Derek or give Jakob his space, dependent on what they desired at the time. Jakob didn't mind, so long as he could say his piece.

So a glance toward Laeris and an assuring nod that he really didn't need aid was his way of turning the universe in his favor, should the stars align and all of that nonsense.

While the water heated, Jakob stood and moved from camp. It wasn't far he had to go. Natural plant life was abundant almost anywhere but for the deep central deserts where even cacti couldn't grow. At those times, Jakob would find his own stores to make such things as tea. But then again, no one would want tea anyway, so it would be a much different act of plant directed culinary arts which Jakob could perform.

Still, out there, in that forest, Jakob's sense of smell was unerring and such scarcity was far from the problem. He actually was somewhat later than usual because he'd found a particular canyon moss that he'd wanted to add to the mint he'd discovered in a sunny patch and the moss was more difficult to acquire than the usual herbs which were his wont.

He whistled low, a bird like trill, and reentered camp, ripping the mint in his palm, the small bag at his side filled to the brim with moss. Noting that others were well on the way to leaving, the allure of being so close to civilization (bah, he could do without it, to be sure) too much to let them have a leisurely cuppa, he made a quick act of tossing everything in, the moss more carefully done - just a seasoning, as too much would serve as a diuretic and he was fairly certain no one would thank him for that pleasure.

While it simmered, he opened his pack and pulled out his own tin cup. It was battered about, having seen many a day in the woods. He laid this out on the grass beside the fire pit where others would congregate as well, all ready to be filled before the morning's travels could ensue.

The others, his eyes glanced over them. There were so few of them, if one considered what they were expected to do. It was suicide, of course. But then, it wasn't as if he'd had anything fascinating going on in his life until that point. He'd had his losses, of course. He'd lost his loved one, though he never talked of that, nor would he. He did not expect anyone to understand, really. They hadn't while the pair of them had been alive, why would death change anything?

But his loss was long over. He had moved on, as the loss was but a gateway to elsewhere. He'd never expected to have it in the first place. He was not surprised to find it gone.

Yet, each of them had lost. Some carried it closer to the heart, letting it guide every step they took. He could read it there on Derek's face every morning. Others, like himself, seemed untouched. If they were or not, did not seem to be any of his business. Or rather, they had not been together long enough for him to delve into the hearts of any of the others. That, if it ever did come to pass, would have to wait for some later time. He was in no rush to see it arrive, either.

__________________

‘What will my death be like?’ he thought- and knew at once
with abrupt certainty, that it would be just like his life:
... the same balance of bearables.
~Amis