Ruby Ash counted seven animals in her one-room apartment before the landlord's knock came at the door. Three dogs, two cats, a rabbit with a bent ear, and a crow that refused to leave the windowsill. She had until the end of the month to clear them out, or she'd be clearing herself out too. The complaints had piled up all summer. A neighbor had seen her carrying a wounded fox up the back stairs last week, and now the whole building knew. She needed land. Not a yard. Not a rented lot. Real forest, deep enough that no one would hear a dog bark or see smoke rise from a chimney. She had been driving out past the edge of Sheldinville every weekend for two months, walking old logging roads with a folded map, looking for a parcel she could afford. Every plot near the highway was posted or sold. The ones deeper in belonged to a timber company that would not return her calls. Meanwhile the rabbit stopped eating, and the crow started plucking its own chest. On Saturday she drove to the feed store for kibble and met a man named John at the loading dock. He watched her load forty pounds of dog food into a car that already smelled like a kennel. He asked if she was the woman taking in strays. She braced for a lecture. Instead he said his uncle had left him ninety acres past the ridge, and he couldn't keep up the taxes. He would sell her the back forty for what he owed the county. There was a shed on it, he said. Kitchen, bathroom, woodstove. An axe and a shovel by the door. His uncle had lived in it for twenty years. Ruby drove out that afternoon and walked the property with John a step behind. The shed stood in a clearing ringed by pine, small and square and sound. Inside she found a narrow bed with a folded quilt, a deep tub against the wall, and shelves lined with jars of rice, beans, and dried fruit. A hummingbird hung at the window feeder, and butterflies moved through the goldenrod outside the door. She signed the paper on the tailgate of his truck. By Monday the deed was hers, and by Friday the landlord had her keys. She loaded the animals into the car in two trips. The crow rode on the passenger seat. She had a place now, and she had until winter to make it hold every stray that came after.