“I must say it’s so exciting to have a dog in the house,” Neena says. “The other girls are just going to love her.”

Bree grins from ear to ear, every inch the proud owner.

“She’s so smart for a dog,” she says. “She saved our life once, when—”

I grab Bree’s arm and squeeze it to quiet her. For some reason, I don’t want what we’ve been through spoken about within our new home. I want it to be a new beginning for us, one free from the past. More than anything, I don’t want anyone to know about the arenas if they don’t have to. I’ve killed people. It will change the way they look at me, make them more cautious, and I don’t know if I can cope with that right now.

Bree seems to understand what I’m trying to silently communicate. She lets her story disappear into the ether, and Neena doesn’t seem to notice.

“There are things for you on the bed,” she says. “Not much, just a few bits to tide you over.”

On each of our beds are neatly folded clothes. They’re made from the same dark material that General Reece and her army were wearing. The fabric is rough; I figure it must be home-grown cotton, colored by naturally made dyes and stitched into a uniform by the tailors she’d told us about.

“Do you girls want to wash before lunch?” Neena asks.

I nod and Neena takes me to the small bathroom that serves all twenty of the house’s residents, before leaving me be. It’s basic and the water is cold, but it feels amazing to be clean again.

When Bree comes back into our room after her own shower, she starts laughing.

“You look funny,” she says to me.

I’ve changed into the stiff uniform that was left for me. Tendrils of hair hang over my shoulders, making wet patches in the fabric.

“It’s itchy,” I say, wriggling uncomfortably.

“Clean, though,” Bree replies, running her fingertips against the fabric of her own uniform. “And new.”

I know what she means. It’s been years since we had anything that was ours, that wasn’t stolen or found or recycled. These are our clothes, never before worn. For the first time in a long time, we have possessions.

Along with the new clothes, we are also given towels, shoes, nightwear, a pencil, a pad of paper, a watch, a flashlight, a whistle, and a penknife. It’s like a little welcome package. From what I’ve learned about the place so far, the contents seem very Fort Noix.

Neena leads us out of the house and along the street, and after a short stroll we come to a larger building. I look up. It has the air of a town hall, yet simple, anonymous.