One of the children, a solemn-eyed dark haired girl, goes up to Michael and tugs on his shirt. "Did you bring us presents?" she asks, and Wolfwood laughs, leans the cross against the house wall.

"Maybe," he allows, and she grins, gap-toothed, and pulls Michael by the hand towards the building as the woman steps down to greet Wolfwood. "I brought some supplie," he tells her, directing the older children to the boxes on the bike. "Keep an eye on the meat: it's fresh, and I don't know how quickly it might go bad." Nodding to Michael, he reaches over to tug the girl free, smiling.

"Sister Francis, this is a friend of mine, Michael. He helped bring the supplies."