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“Will there ever be a farmer again?” Babs pauses to check her knitting. Her noose knitting has stopped, but her nervous questions are still a daily occurrence.

Ginger shrugs, because explaining does nothing. Telling her maybe will only create an unfixable panic.

“Fowler commands everyone enough, don't you think?”

Even he is happy without the pressures of farm life. Everyone is becoming exhausted with his recounting of their escape story as it grows more and more grand, but they still listen.

Babs nods, mumbling about owing him a scarf.

“Be sure to focus; you know that he wants it perfect.”

It's enough to distract her for now.