HEN WE PACKED TO LEAVE FOR THE VERY LAST TIME, it didn't WH feel like the end. There was too much to think about. The three of us took our last steps out the door and into the smog-glazed air of the city. I gave a nod to the round-bellied man stripping siding from the house, a warning that he and his crew of city salvage workers had better stay outside until we were good and gone. I took Asêciwan's hand and pulled her past the men. Her little legs fluttered in double time to keep up. All down the street she kept twisting her head around to look, as if the house would still be hers as long as she held it in sight. Thorah was way ahead of us. Fear propelled her beyond our reach. I glanced back before we turned the corner. Silvery trunks of maples, all dead since last year, stood like gravestones in front of the empty houses. Where will we bury our dead in the New World? I wondered. The salvage crew disappeared into our house with heavy plastic bags and crowbars. Thorah was a block away, flapping her hands for us to hurry up. I started skipping, dragging Asêciwan behind me until we caught up. Thorah maintained her pace, groaning about the wobbling left wheel of her luggage. She cursed the day's early heat and fretted that the bottles of filtered water wouldn't last until we arrived. I made​