The tent and the backpack are laid out like game show prizes on the floor of the little supply room. Dawn looks from one to the other and back again.

(Wonders again how she arrived at this stupid place in her life.)

Amber nudges her. “So, what do you think?” she asks. “Which reward do you choose?”

Dawn looks at the tent and the backpack and wishes she could trade either one for a plane ticket to Chicago. But that clearly isn’t happening.

She looks outside, where the rest of the Pack is sitting on the grass in the clearing, or leaned up against their backpacks, taking advantage of the break to rest a little bit. They all have backpacks and tents.

Dawn catches Lucas’s eye, and he gives her a little wave and jogs over. “What’s up?” he asks.

“Dawn’s trying to decide which reward to choose,” Amber tells him, fully buying into the game show host role. “Do you have any advice for her, Lucas?”

Lucas (dork) takes the question very seriously. “I mean, it sucks lugging your stuff around in a tarp,” he says, scratching his head. “But my life really got better when I upgraded to my tent. So many less bug bites.”

“So I should take the tent,” Dawn says. “That’s what you’re saying?”

Lucas screws up his face. Turns around and looks up at the sky like the clouds have answers.

“I mean, it’s probably not going to rain too much this week, right?” he says, looking at Amber for confirmation. “And the bugs really aren’t so bad now that summer’s over.”

So I should take the pack? Dawn wants to ask him. Come on, man, help me out here. She doesn’t get the chance, though, because Christian walks into the supply room from the office, eating a microwaved burrito and scratching his chest.

“We ready to move out?” he asks Amber.

“Just about,” Amber replies. “Just waiting on Dawn to choose her reward.”

Christian chews his burrito. It smells absolutely delicious, and for a split second, Dawn contemplates murdering him for half of it. But he’s bigger than her, and she doesn’t have any weapons.

Christian keeps scratching. “We gotta move out,” he tells Amber. “If she doesn’t want the reward, she doesn’t have to have either; I don’t care.”

Amber gives Dawn a look that’s half apology, half exasperation—though with Christian or Dawn, Dawn isn’t sure. “We’re getting there, Christian,” she says. “You round up the others and we’ll finish up in here.”

Christian finishes his burrito. “Don’t keep us waiting,” he says. “Lots of ground to cover.”

He ambles away, and Amber’s eyes meet Dawn’s again, and now Dawn’s reasonably certain it’s Christian who Amber’s tired of, not her.