“Davie…” Vin retorted. “I’ll be fine. Yeah, my ribs hurt but each day they get better. By the time we’re out there I’ll be, well, almost back to normal. I should know. This isn’t the first time this has happened to me.”
Puffing out a breath, Davie nodded. “I guess I have to take your word for it.”
Chuckling, Vin replied, “You don’t have much choice, do you?”
* * * *
Sunday morning Davie and Vin packed everything they owned into backpacks—one for Davie as he hadn’t amassed much since his arrival at the Encampment other than the few pieces of clothing from the room in the laundry cabin. Vin, having been there for a year, had almost twice as much. Ran had come by soon after they finished breakfast to give each of them a nice pair of jeans and a new T-shirts because, as he pointed out, “You’ll raise a lot of eyebrows getting on the plane looking as if you’ve spent a month living on the streets.”
“We’re flying? Okay, yeah, dumb question.” Davie rolled his eyes.