“I’m sorry. We had an open discussion. I spoke up in favor of all of you. But we put it to a vote. And consensus rules.”

No one else said anything.

“Can I ask a question?” I said. “Why are you camped here? Why here? You’re so close to Skate State, they’re always going to find you and hassle you. Why not ‘defend’ somewhere else?”

“This is our home,” Mica said. “Most of us grew up around here before...” She didn’t need to say more.

But I couldn’t let go of it. “Don’t you people have jobs? How do you get your money?”

“Wil,” Dance said.

Mica said, “I kinda think this is our job now. Don’t you?”

“What’s with the bread?” Grayson asked.

She held it out. It looked healthy and hard, probably some whole grain, birdseed thing. It might be useful as a weapon if someone came swinging at us in the night.

But Mica walked past Grayson and held it out to Jamey. “For you,” she said. “For you and your daughter. For your journey.”

Jamey stared at the bread as though it was a snake.

“Don’t we get bread?” Grayson joked. “What about our journey?”

Mica turned. “Oh, you can stay. You and Dance and Wil? You’re welcome to camp here as long as you like. You’re useful. You have things to contribute. Only the Skate State people have to go. I thought I made that clear?”

“What?” Grayson said.

“We’re not Skate State people,” Jamey said. “We came from there, but we’re not like Jake. That’s not our fault. That’s not my baby’s fault.”

“Hold on,” Dance said.

“You can’t live next to Skate State and just close your eyes to what happens there. What happens to women.”

I took Mica’s bread. “We’re not going anywhere without Jamey and Starla,” I said. “That’s it.”

Mica stared at me. How long had she been in the woods, really? How long had she slept on the ground—or on one of the deer stands, wrapped in waterproof down? How cold would it get before she left? Maybe I was all wrong. Maybe Mica and Blue Mohawk and the others were here for keeps. Maybe they were protecting something I didn’t even know needed to be protected, for all of us: the pines, the scarred birches. I had assumed they would always be here, some part of them somewhere, living on. But I had assumed that about a lot of things.

Given the choice, I almost expected Dance to stay. I thought he belonged someplace like this camp, where he could make a difference. Mica turned to him, maybe thinking the same thing. But Dance didn’t move.