"Mama! Mama, wake up!" "Toby, not so loud," Lauryn snapped and shoved a fistful of rough blanket off her face. She sat up, fingers fumbling for a second before finding Gus's hair and Daisy's fist curled against her collarbone. "She's sweating," Toby said, voice small and accusing. "Did she have a bad dream?" "She didn't," Lauryn said, steady. "Go water the goat if you're going to make noise." Gus hiccuped a laugh. Daisy started to cry again, a tiny, furious sound that punched a hole through the kitchen's thin calm. Outside the single-pane window someone muttered, loud enough for Lauryn to hear the words land like stones on the roof. "Where did she come from?" "She'll take what little we have." "Best keep an eye on her." "Priscilla's voice," Lauryn said under her breath. "She never learned to shut up." A knock at the door followed the gossip. Quick, polite, and meant to be a test. "I'll go," Lauryn told the kids. She tied her hair back with a strip of cloth. Her hands smelled of old smoke and detergent. She sounded rough and new and that was all right. The door opened on Priscilla Chen's glare and half a dozen neighbors' noses pushed inside like they were checking a wound. "We saw smoke last night," Priscilla began. "You set a fire near the well." "We smelled meat," a woman added, leaning on the frame. "Who cooks meat at