When Eleanor stopped in front of him, Sam almost bumped into her. The thorny bushes had pressed so close that he’d been paying more attention to them than to the excellent view in front of him.

“Is this it?” Sam asked, taking a careful step backward.

Just beyond Eleanor, a partition covered with sprawling vines rose nearly to the ceiling. She looked up at the wall. “No. This is just the wall between the silverfruit and the superwheat. Some of the melon vines have grown over the pass-through. You don’t happen to have a pocketknife on you, do you?”

A pocketknife? Were those even legal on Hope?

Sam’s shock must have shown on his face, because Eleanor smiled wryly and said, “I guess I’ll take that as a no. I suppose I sho...

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