Sunday morning Davie and Vin packed everything they owned into backpacks—one for Davie as he hadn’t amassed much since his arrival at the Encampment other than the few pieces of clothing from the room in the laundry cabin. Vin, having been there for a year, had almost twice as much. Ran had come by soon after they finished breakfast to give each of them a nice pair of jeans and a new T-shirts because, as he pointed out, “You’ll raise a lot of eyebrows getting on the plane looking as if you’ve spent a month living on the streets.”
“We’re flying? Okay, yeah, dumb question.” Davie rolled his eyes.
Ran also handed them zippered vinyl pouches holding basic toiletries. To Davie, they looked like something that came from a Dollar Store and he said as much.
“Of course they do,” Ran replied. “So
