We came to the flat, wooden bridge that crossed the stream. JP saw us from his place at the fire. He ran to meet us. I could smell the turkey cooking. The smell of the rolls was intoxicating. I would miss wheat the most. This would be our last real meal. From now on it would be a mixture of something we killed and something we grew, if the frost held out. Charlotte was the mother of five. She had a well-stocked pantry with lots of dry goods, but those would be saved for winter. I hoped the truck behind me also carried food. There were thirteen of us now, including Quinn and JP. Not to mention the horses and chickens. Gathering food for all of us would not be easy.
Quint and Eli led the horses toward the house. We passed Blaise, Josh, Sara, and East sitting at the fire pit. A thin sheet of
