Her stomach felt hollow and she was desperate to move. She wanted food. She wanted more than alganola. She remembered her Grammy’s stories about the time before the Convergence, how people got on airplanes to fly to other countries and the food they ate. “We used to complain about how the food was awful,” she had said.

“What kind of food?” Sorrel had asked.

“By the time I flew, there was no more food. But my mother used to talk about it – food on little trays. Drinks too. Things like wine and whisky.”

“How many times did you fly?”

“Only once. To New York. Before they closed the borders. Before the Renaming.”

Grammy had told this story dozens of times, but every time a new detail was revealed. The tall buildings in New York. Air conditioning and heating. Restaurants. People selling food from wagons and stalls in the street. Flowering trees. Parks with green grass. People outside in the day, rushing to their jobs and families, jogging with earphones. “We thought there was no going back, ever,” Grammy always said at the end. “We thought everything would get better and better forever.”

“What d’you miss most?” Sorrel said.

“Patties,” her grandmother said.

Bibi stirred beside her. Sorrel saw the glint of her mother’s eyes. “You slept?” she said.

“Some. I’m stiff.”

“Me too. It’ll take me an hour to unwind. Hungry too. Let’s eat something. Drink a little too. Find the knife. You have better eyes – has the feral left? We need to know if there’s only one.”

Sorrel squinted at the land outside. The sun could blind you. There was the canine, lying in the narrow shadow cast by a rock. It had returned or perhaps it hadn’t left. A porc snuffled at the sandy soil in the blazing sun.

“At least one canine and one porc,” she said. “How’ve they survived outside?”

“Small. Fast. Good at finding shelter. Eat anything.”

“Why didn’t the Domins hunt them before there were so many? We could’ve eaten them.”

Bibi shrugged. “They tried back in the day. They bred fast. Hid well. Some were killed and eaten, but then people got sick. I don’t know.”

“I hope they didn’t get into the other pack.”

“We should drink. Look for the big knife.”

The water was warm and thick and failed to quench Sorrel’s thirst. She rooted in the backpack and found some alganola and the kitchen knife. “A little luck,” she said, giving it to her mother.

The ray of sunshine softened and retreated. Eventually, twilight settled around them and they breathed more easily.

“We don’t have much time before it’ll be full dark,” Bibi said. She groaned as she tried to move her limbs.

“We can’t stay here through another day. We need the other backpack.”

“I know. How big are these ferals?”

Sorrel shrugged. “Compared to what? Can you stand?”