“Why?” Courtney asked.

“We’ll bring some of our clothes to leave there.”

“But nobody told us they needed clothes,” Courtney countered.

“I know. Just thinking ahead.”

“That’s just an excuse to go there, isn’t it?” Courtney asked.

Mark didn’t argue. “I guess I just want to see it again. To prove it’s real.”

“I hear you,” Courtney said. “I do too.”

When they got off the train, they both went home and gathered up a bunch of clothes they thought a Traveler from some distant territory might need on a visit to Second Earth. That’s what acolytes did. They supported the Travelers on their mission to protect Halla. Courtney picked out a bunch of simple, functional things like jeans, T-shirts, a sweater, socks, hiking boots, and underwear. She debated about bringing one of her bras, but figured that was overkill. Mark gathered up a bunch of clothes that were totally out of style. It wasn’t like he had a choice. That’s all he had. He found sweatshirts with logos that meant nothing, no-name jeans, and generic sneakers. Style was not something Mark concerned himself with. He hoped the Travelers felt the same way.

Mark brought one extra item, but hoped he wouldn’t need it. It was the sharp poker from his parents’ fireplace. It was a woefully inadequate weapon to deal with an attacking quig-dog, but it was all he could find.

Shortly after, Mark and Courtney met at the iron gates in front of the empty Sherwood house. They silently walked around to the side and climbed the tree to get over the high stone wall that surrounded the spooky, abandoned estate. Once over, Mark held the fireplace poker out in front of him, ready to ward off a rampaging quig. Mark’s hand was shaking like warm Jell-O, so Courtney gently took the weapon from him. If either of them had a chance of fighting off a charging quig, it would be Courtney.