A few feet away, Nancy is poking Tricia in the ribs, trying to get her to stop snoring. And beyond that, under the only tree within a half-mile, is the new girl, Brenda, the one who just went on suicide watch. Such a strange routine for her now: the drawstring taken from the hood of her sleeping bag, the laces pulled from her boots - just in case. A blue tarp spread tight across her bag with two staff lying on top of the outside edges, one on either side of her, the better to feel every move she makes. If this was your first week in the field you'd probably be thinking it'd been one hell of a day. Carla had her first try at leading the group on a night hike, laying open a personality that looked something like a cross between Joan Crawford and an aerobics instructor. No one took it well. And then that thing with Brenda.