'This medicine's for your leg, Máire. Make sure to rub it on once every two days. And this will help with your cough, take it once a day...' In a corner of the camp, Saileach gives her instructions firmly as she packs some medicine into Máire's bag. 'Relax, Janie, I will.' Máire coughs lightly a few times, but her complexion is already looking a lot better than before. 'You say that every time, but how many times have I found those meds stashed in your bag?' It seems Saileach won't be letting this issue go. 'You bought them for us with your own money, so I thought...' 'I know you want to save some for others, but you've got to care about your own health too. I don't know when we'll be meeting next, so you need to take care of yourself.' Saileach inspects the bag once more, making sure nothing has fallen out, before standing up, ready to leave. Máire's eyes cloud over with worry as she hears the last few words. She tugs on Saileach's hand, her reluctance to let her leave clear on her face. 'Janie, I'll tell that young lady Reed that you're the only reason we could even survive. We're willing to go along with her people because you trust her.' 'There's no need for that, Máire. You guys should head home, and she can take you home. It's as simple as that.' Saileach makes her way to the other side of the camp, where a man is banging away at a cart. When he sees her, he stands and greets her. 'Hey there, Janie. This cart here can roll steady even with a dozen of people's luggage on it. I bet when that Reed lady's men see it, why, they'll be green with envy.' 'You're getting better at carpentry by the day, Deaglán. Oh, right, remember to help watch Máire for me while I'm gone. Don't let her hide her medicine again.' 'Relax, I'll keep an eye on her.' Deaglán pats his chest. 'You look after yourself too. She's already lost her family once. Nobody can bear that kind of loss twice.' 'I know. I'll take good care of myself, for her sake...' Deaglán scratches his head, a hint of shyness on his face. 'It's a shame, really. I was hoping you'd be the witness at our wedding.' He sighs. 'I'd love to, once you've settled down.' 'Great! Then it's a done deal!' And so she continues on her walk around the camp. Sometimes she helps sort out luggage, sometimes she stops to have a chat. Sometimes it's a hug, sometimes it's a laugh. Sometimes it's silence, sometimes it's tears, until the sun's nearly set and Reed's soldiers appear over the horizon, out in the wilds. The refugees pick up their bags and hold each other's hands as they leave the camp and walk off into the distance. There are compatriots there, compatriots who bring hope with them. But they cannot stop themselves from looking back. Their friend is here, a friend who refused to let them die in despair. Saileach walks up the hill and places a harp on the ground, then begins to pluck at the strings. She plays an ancient melody, and those refugees who hear it hum along to that age-old tune— 'Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and auld lang syne?'