They trekked for days through the burnt detritus that encircled their former home. Rain poured down from the dark grey sky soaking each child through to the bone. Morale was low and more than once members of their little band had given up and turned back.

They further they went the less inclined they were to idle chatter. Yakov could sense a full scale mutiny approaching if they didn't find Eden soon, but the constant rain was making it hard for him to get his bearings.

It was only through sheer luck that, early one evening, he found a path through the blackened landscape to the green-hilled utopia beyond. He grabbed Pietra and gave a loud whoop. The children rolled out onto the sodden grass laughing and cheering. Pietra watched them for a moment then turned to Yakov.
"Where's the farm, Yakov?" He scanned the unfamiliar horizon, pointed in an arbitrary direction and replied, "Umm...that way."

The group marched all night through the wet grass. Without cover Yakov didn't want to risk them staying out in the open exposed to anything. And anyone. As morning broke they crested a small rise and looked out on to acres of graded land and beyond that: a large farmstead.
"Wow," gasped Evan, the brother of Yakov's previous travelling companion.
"Race you!" shouted another as he took off down the slope. The other kids launched themselves down the hill towards the farmhouse. Yakov stood watching them all until his sister tugged at his arm and said "Come on, Yakov. You don't want to be the rotten egg!"  He laughed and raced her down. Careful to let her pull ahead and win at just the right moment.

*****

Yakov and a few of the others spent the whole morning doing an inventory of the farm. The previous owners had left the place in relatively good condition, but they'd taken almost all the food. In a crawlspace - so small that only the youngest boy could fit - they found a stash of aluminium cans, the labels long since faded; a Tupperware container filled with seeds and a dusty leather journal. In the front of the journal Yakov found a folded piece of paper, a checklist for getting the farm up and running again. The seeds, the journal told him, were wheat, or would be once they'd weeded the field and sown them. He looked up to see Pietra and two of the younger girls walk past munching on handfuls of blackberries.
"We found a bush," she said, matter-of-factly.

Surely it couldn't be this easy? He thought to himself.

He organised a few of the older kids into groups to help him work through the checklist. There was a well somewhere nearby that they would need and with the rain stopped and the sun out they could begin to clean up the field. Pietra, ever helpful, put together her own group to help pick the rest of the blackberries.

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