The home guard Inman walked through days of cooling weather, blue skies, and empty roads.

He avoided towns and met few people, and the few he met were mainly salves. The nights were warm and lit by big moons, and day after day passed with nothing much happening. As he walked, Inman often thought of Ada, and of one evening in particular, that Christmas four years ago when she had fallen into his lap. In seemed like another life, another world. He remembered her weight on his legs, her softness, and the sweet smell of her hair. She had leaned back and rested her head on his shoulder. Then she had sat up and he had put his hands on her shoulders. He had wanted to put his arms around her and hold her tight, but she had stood up and pulled at her skirt, and smoothed her hair. Well, she had said. Well Inman had leaned forward, and taken her hand and put his lips to her wrist. Ada had slowly taken her away and then stood looking down at it. That was unexpected, she said. Then she had walked away.