Kylie pulled the small blue tent from her pack and staked it under a bank of dead trees. Anna watched from a few steps back, arms folded against the cold. Kylie had promised her a real roof someday. Tonight, patched nylon would have to do. She checked the zipper twice. Then she opened the worn folder she carried everywhere. Penciled pages spilled out — floor plans, window counts, a stairwell drawn ten different ways. Proof, she told herself, that the work was real. At first light, she walked Anna to the site. The brick walls rose from the weeds, knee-high in places, gapped where the rebar still showed. Anna stopped. She did not speak. Kylie watched her face and tried to breathe. "It isn't safe yet," Kylie said. "But it will be." Anna touched the brick. She did not pull her hand back. Kylie folded the plans shut and decided. Tonight they would sleep inside the walls, gaps and all. The hiding was over.