Mirka awoke to find her mom starting to prepare dinner on the low table formed by the ration box. Her dad was somewhere outside the tent. She sat up, rubbed the sleep from her eyes, and looked at the pemmican and biscuits on the table. “Hoosh again?”
“Yes. How did you sleep?”
“Good.” She started to put on her clothes and then stopped. Her mother noticed the change in her expression.
“What’s wrong?”
Mirka took a moment to make certain before answering quietly, “I wet.”
“Your pull-up did its job, didn’t it?”
She felt around to make sure of what she thought she’d felt before answering, “It did.”
