The mute look he shoots her says all it needs to. Does he look like a corpse with a plan, Ellie? Still, R likes to think he can do something besides shuffling and eating and this right here? Totally his chance. Mouth or no mouth, he's got this. R turns and shuffles off, his eyes on the ground. It's easy to follow where he's going because he makes no attempt to soften his footsteps or stop rattling every branch that scratches against his face and chest.

When he comes back, he has a rock about the size of his fist dripping mud. Ants crawl over it. One end, though, is sharp enough to mean business.

He holds it out to Ellie.