This chapter has been edited to comply with this site's rules. If you wish to read the full MA version, see my profile for the location.

Whenever you see an * it means that something has been removed. Just to warn, I'm not going to rewrite the entire story to accommodate these changes, so if something seems missing or out of place, it's probably edited text.

Chapter Notes: As I told you guys, the previous chapter was short, but this one would make up for it...and it has! This chapter is over 4,000 words, pretty lengthy for a chapter. I usually like to keep them somewhere around 2-3,000.

I have to say that this chapter poured right out of me. It practically wrote itself. If only all chapters could be that way. I hope you guys like reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

As always, thanks for the reviews, favorites, and follows.

With her hair newly cut and her stomach still growling, Arya followed the mission worker's advice and continued down the road into the shantytown.

A sign had been painted and hung over the first shack that read "Hooverville." There were more people in it than in the town center, with shacks clustered together made of wood and tin. They were so shabby that a strong wind could knock them all down, and in the clearings between shelters were several fires.

Small children played, chasing each other as they weaved around the fires and shelters while so many old people huddled together for more comfort than warmth around those fires. With sad faces, they pulled their tattered clothes around them tighter against the chill.

At one of the fires, she saw a can of beans heating. Everyone here was hungry, and stealing from people just as hungry as her went against everything she believed in, but the soggy biscuit did very little for her stomach and she was so desperate for food she couldn't talk herself out of it. With a glance around to see that no one was looking her way, she lunged for the can only to be stopped and held in her place by her shoulders by someone in back of her.

"You could get killed for less," someone said to her, but it wasn't just someone. Arya turned and saw the boy who'd helped her on the train. "Gendry?"

"Arya?" he said, then took a good look at her with her shorter hair and must have remembered his advice to her to hide being a girl. He looked around, and Arya thought she saw a hint of red in his cheeks, so she shrugged herself free and brushed herself off. "It's Harry, thank you very much."

His embarrassment smoothed into a warm smile, and Arya felt her stomach again, but it was different this time. It didn't grumble and growl at her, but it tightened and fluttered and her skin suddenly felt hot.

"Well, Harry, you must be hungry. The mission ran out of food an hour ago, but I was able to get the last can of Spam," he said to her as she turned and walked with his head turned in her direction as though he expected her to follow. She did.

"I'm glad you made it past the bulls. I figured if you could get yourself on the train, you could get yourself out of the bulls' clutches, too." Gendry pulled a can from the side of the fire and handed it to her.

"Do you have a spoon?" he asked, and she shook her head. Without warning, he pulled a spoon from his pants pocket and tossed it to her. She wasn't expecting it and fumbled to catch it. "Keep it, kid. And don't lose it. Everyone uses their own spoon."

Before taking a scoop of the canned meat with it, she wiped the spoon on the side of her shirt. The creamy meat was at least better than the lump of a biscuit she got from the garbage.

A group of boys and girls passed through the shantytown, and the lead boy with blond hair and dark blue eyes stopped to look at Arya and Gendry. "Hey, you two. Want something to eat better than that crap?"

Arya stopped in mid-chew, wondering what he had to offer.

"Look, me and my friends here have a set up with stew and bread, enough to fill both of you up. You're welcome to join us."

By the time he finished saying what he had to say, Arya had already put the can down and was ready to stand when Gendry grabbed her wrist. He shook his head, warning her not to go, but the prospect of having her stomach filled was enough to ignore his warning.

"Come on, Gendry. Come with me." She tried to coax him but Gendry wouldn't budge.

"Suit yourself," she said to him before thanking him for the spoonful of Spam and said her goodbye, then left with the group.

As she walked with the group of children out of the shantytown, the lead boy's arm around her shoulders trying to earn her trust and friendship, somewhere nearby, Arya thought she heard someone scream, "Wolf!"

Following the band of children to the edge of the town center, Arya was surprised to see more children hiding in the abandoned store they called home. She'd walked with six children from the shantytown, but there had to be at least twenty in the store ranging from barely walking on their own to around eighteen or nineteen, and all congregated in the large store room.

One of the children younger than Arya brought her a bowl of whatever was in the pot when the leader named Ned clucked his tongue and nodded toward the food then to Arya. As soon as the warmed bowl hit her fingers, she grabbed her spoon from her pocket and dove into it without so much as a thank you. She was hungry, and the scoop of Spam and soggy old biscuit were forgotten with the hearty warmth of meat and potatoes to fill her stomach. She didn't want to ask what the meat was, and honestly, she didn't care.

"So, I didn't get your name," the boy in charge said to her and all eyes were on her waiting for her response. It took a moment for her to swallow the mouthful of stew before she could.

"Harry."

"Aw, come on now. You don't have to pretend. No one's going hurt you here," Ned said. Even though he was only encouraging her to let down her guard, she winced. She knew the reason why Gendry told her to pretend to be a boy, still, talking about it directly gave her chills. Softly, nervously, she said her real name, "Arya."

"That's better." He gave her a relaxed smile as he slid into his upholstered chair with its cushioning escaping from all of the holes it had. "What's your story?"

"Trying to go west," she said, but he eyed her. "Go on."

Arya took another spoonful before she spoke again. "My dad and brother died," she told them, choosing to use the word "died" rather than "killed" then finished with, "and I'm trying to get to my cousin in California."

"Aw, kid. How do you know your cousin'll even take you in?" Ned asked her. Then another boy, one from the original group she'd met, added, "Family ain't what it used to be. Parents don't even stay nowadays. Mine didn't, so what makes you think a cousin's gonna take in an orphan?"

"My cousin loves me," she said, and half the room laughed. Her patience was wearing thin with them and she was starting to wonder if she made the right decision leaving Gendry.

Ned must have seen it on her face because he piped up over the laughter, "We meant nothing by it. All of us here were abandoned if not orphaned. We know firsthand what it's like to have cousins, aunts, uncles, parents decide they can only feed them and theirs, and we don't count as theirs."

"Yeah," another boy chimed in. "Me and old man lost our jobs, and he was able to get one in Washington, but there was only one. The next morning, he was gone. Not even a 'so long.'"

* At that moment, Arya almost lost the stew in her stomach. The girl was younger than her, couldn't have been older than twelve, and that was two years ago. Her stomach lurched again.

"It's okay," Ned told her. "We're her family now. This…" he said as he opened his arms gesturing toward everyone in the room, "is our family. So whadda you say? You wanna go tramping with us? Be a part of our family?"

Arya just stared at him. What she wanted was to go to her cousin in California, but she wondered if these kids were right, if she was just going to burden him with another mouth to feed. The last news she'd heard about him, he was getting hitched. He probably had a family of his own by now.

"What do I have to do?" she asked, and the boy smiled widely.

"We all carry our own weight around here, and once you get the hang of it, you'll be alright."

Arya shrugged and finished her bowl of stew.

The sun had gone down hours ago, and it was most likely around midnight when six boys, including Ned, and two older girls were with Arya wedged into the narrow gap between two buildings that could barely be called an alley. They were waiting for something, and Ned peeked around the building every so often, looking for something. When he hissed a sound then tilted his head toward the street before he left, Arya took in a deep breath and followed the rest out of the alley and into the deserted main street. They all followed him towards the storage building that was their target.

"What's in there?" Arya asked, and Ned smiled smugly as he looked at the door of the building. "It's where they keep the booze. City folk have their rules and regulations, but a lot of times, they stash extra in small towns to dodge 'em."

Arya blinked at the thought that they were going to steal booze. "Shouldn't we steal what we need? Food?"

"Are you a nitwit? Wise up, kid," said one of the boys. She didn't like being called a kid, she liked it less when Gendry called her that, but after being called a nitwit, she liked it even less from this boy's mouth. Without giving much thought about how they were on the empty main street late at night and it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, Arya balled her fist and punched the jackass square in the face. He was stunned for a second, holding his nose, but then lunged at Arya.

Ned grabbed him before he could get to her, and told the both of them, "Quit it! There's time to settle scores later, but right now we gotta' do this if we wanna eat."

The boy stopped trying to get to Arya, but eyed her while Ned explained, "Arya, we sell the booze, and the money we make gets us the food and other things we need."

She didn't like stealing, a grape or two here or apple there when very hungry was different, but this was real stealing and she didn't feel comfortable about it. But this was the way they survived, and if she was going to survive without Jon, then this was what she had to do.

Ned bent down and did something with the lock on the door. It clicked after a while, and then he stood and opened it. "Grab as much as you can carry," he said as though to the entire group, but Arya knew it was for her benefit. The other kids had been doing this far longer.

One of the older boys took a crowbar and opened several crates so that the other kids could start grabbing bottles when, by the third crate and Arya holding two bottles, a shot fired.

* The one man cradled his punctured hand while the other watched her carefully, looking for a way to get the advantage. She held the gun on them steadily with one hand and nudged Gendry with the other. "You have to get up."

Gendry managed to pull himself up, barely, and he leaned on her. She juggled the gun in one hand while helping him with her other arm as the wolf stayed behind them, growling at the two men each time they dared to take a step in their direction. The last time Arya looked back, she saw the two men go back into the building, obviously having given up on the two of them. She didn't want to take any chances, so she turned down on one of the side streets and walked as quickly with Gendry as she could.

When they were on the edge of the shantytown, Arya heard the faint sounds of police sirens in the center of town. Arya tossed the gun in the garbage can against the mission wall and continued on to where Gendry had offered her a place to eat in shantytown earlier.

There were people still sitting by the fires, and as they passed by, many of them stared at her and Gendry and the wolf. Arya ignored them and continued to where he'd offered her the Spam and noticed that the shack near it hadn't been taken by someone else. She was afraid that she'd have nowhere to lay him down to recover. As the mission worker told her during her hair cut, the mission never seemed to have an empty bed.

The shack was small enough to lay down in one direction for no more than two people. She helped him sit on the dirt floor just as the wolf came into the shack and curled itself nearby. Arya realized that the wolf was in the spot where Gendry would have to lay his head. "If you don't move, I'm going to lay him right on you!" she said to the wolf, but it didn't budge. Arya followed through with her threat and laid Gendry down further until his head was on the wolf.

Still the wolf didn't move, but then she realized that the wolf made a soft pillow for him and smiled. "Smarty pants," she said to the wolf, but Gendry, very much out of it, grunted questioningly.

"Not you, silly. The wolf."

"Wolf?" he asked, barely able to speak. With his face as swollen as it was, she would never have been able to recognize him. She felt a flush of anger that she couldn't see his face under all that swelling, and realized that she had found it not so bad to look at. Even as she remembered the way he looked normally, her stomach twisted and her skin prickled with heat the way it did earlier that day. She didn't know what that meant, and she didn't like not knows, so she pushed the thoughts out of her mind.

"Why'd you do it?" she whispered her question, half wondering if he could hear her or even answer if he could.

His eyes opened at that, but they were slivers between large, bulbous lids. "Someone had to look out for you. I wish someone had looked out for my ma like that."

It was the first time Gendry had even mentioned anything about himself to her.

"How'd you find me?"

He turned his head away from her, and she sighed, realizing he'd passed out. At least she thought he did until he answered, "I followed you. The people here told me those kids have been nothing but trouble since they came in. Got the town folk riled up."

Arya could see why. They stole to survive, and she was sure that would wear on a town quick.

"You should go, Arya. Ride the rails. It's only going to get colder and—"

She interrupted him because she knew exactly what time of year it was and how the weather was changing. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Winter's coming."

He nodded, and she could see the pain he was in just to do that. It didn't matter. He saved her. Twice. The least she could do was make sure he got well. "You're stuck with me," she said to him as his eyes closed and his breathing calmed.

Arya sat next to him with her knees pulled close to her and her head resting on them.

The sound of people half woke her up. She smelled beans and Spam heated near the fires outside along with heavier musky smells nearby. One she knew was wild and had to be the wolf's. The other smell made her think of Gendry.

Gendry!

Her eyes snapped open. She saw the span of his chest and felt it rise and fall underneath her head. She was curled up against him, her head on his chest and her leg across one of his. Her arm was draped over his middle, and as she moved away from him she felt the muscles underneath his clothes that only men that worked hard labor could get. He was strong, but she never thought he was that strong. The thought caused that twist in her stomach and flush in her skin, but this time she also felt a throb between her legs.

Suddenly feeling embarrassed, having no idea what was going on with her, she was so thankful he was still asleep. Arya got up and was ready to leave the shack when the wolf looked up at her. She quickly held out her hand and whispered, "Stay."

She didn't really think the wolf would listen to her, would understand what her hand gesture and word meant, but the wolf did it. It wouldn't move from under Gendry's head and she was relieved that Gendry would be able to sleep a little longer.

Outside, there was a woman who was just a little older than Gendry handing out fliers, mission fliers with prayers on them, and when she offered Arya a flier, Arya took it and asked her if she had any food.

"I'm sorry, but we don't have anymore. The last was given yesterday."

"Oh," Arya said as she stuffed her hands in her pockets with a slight pout from complete disappointment. If she was going to get Gendry better, she needed to get him food; he needed his strength to recover.

The woman looked at her carefully, stopping at the side of her head and her chest. Arya looked down to see blood on her shirt, Gendry's blood.

"Are you okay?" the woman asked, and Arya answered by simply shaking her head, then telling the woman to follow. When the woman saw Gendry on the ground, swollen with his dried blood on his face and shirt, the woman held her hand to her mouth.

"What happened?"

Arya could have told the truth, but would it help Gendry? She had to try and get something, anything, for Gendry, and if sympathy was the way to get it, she would do what she had to do. "Some men beat him up to take what he had," she lied.

"Who is he to you?" the woman asked, and Arya hesitated. She could have said her brother, that would have gotten enough sympathy, but she couldn't bring herself to call him her brother. A brother meant something else that didn't fit how she saw Gendry. She could have said friend, but that would make them practically strangers with no sympathy given.

She landed on the only lie she could tell that would gain the most sympathy. "He's my husband," she told the woman. The woman looked at Arya warily. Suddenly, Arya remembered her short hair and tomboy clothes, so she stood up straight and tall, pushing her chest forward and into view. The woman checked her left hand for a ring and Arya lifted it up to show her there was none. "We had to get hitched quick 'cause…" She rubbed her stomach with her hand to finish that sentence. "We didn't have the money for a ring. We were married in a church by a preacher and everything, though."

Lying came easier and easier, and Arya didn't like it one bit. She promised herself that when she finally made it to Jon, she would never lie again.

However, the woman gasped and fell for it.

"We don't have much left, but I'll get what I can for you, you poor dear."

The woman all but ran back to the mission. There was some guilt for the lies Arya told, but it was for a good cause; it was for Gendry.

The woman came back quickly with blankets, a bucket of water, lard and bread. "I'm so sorry we don't have more," she said as she set the blankets, food and bucket of water on the ground at the door to the shack.

Arya smiled and thanked her.

"You say your prayers, girl?"

"Every night," Arya lied again, knowing the woman wouldn't settle for anything less. The woman nodded, accepting the answer and pulled a roll of fliers from her pocket to start handing them out again.

Arya took the bread that the woman was nice enough to slice already, and smeared some lard onto one of them. She ate it quickly, knowing Gendry would wake up soon, and by the time she finished the second to last bite, she heard him shifting. After rinsing an empty can someone had tossed, she filled it with water, smeared another slice of bread with lard and hid the rest under the blankets.

At his side, she brought the can of water to his mouth and told him to sip. He could barely open his mouth, his swelling hadn't gone down during the night, so she had to dribble the water in. She dipped his slice of bread and lard in the water and put it in his mouth, hoping he could swallow without choking.

He could, and he did. Afterwards, he croaked, "Arya, why're you still here?"

"I told you I was staying."

"People don't always do what they say," he said weakly, barely able to move his lips to say the words.

"Shut up and rest."

Shantytowns were makeshift towns for the homeless. There were so many homeless during the Great Depression that they would cluster into communities (safety in numbers). We still have these today, but they're smaller, less of them, and are typically called tent cities.

Because President Hoover believed that it was best to allow the economy to right itself with very little, if any, government intervention, and the situation only seemed to grow dire during his inaction, the increasing number of homeless called their shantytowns "Hooverville".

The people that hurt the most during the Great Depression were the children, women, and the elderly. Parents abandoned children, husbands abandoned wives (this was a problem because women were far less likely to find work than men), and children abandoned their elderly parents. People had to make hard choices in who they could feed and who they couldn't. My initial reaction to this was to really hate the people who abandoned someone, but then I thought about it. If you have two parents, three children (a teen, a child, and a nursing infant), and two grandparents with one slice of bread as a meal, who gets to eat? I would never want to have to make that choice.

Canned food was a staple for the homeless. You could travel with it, and the food was preserved practically forever until opened. I know for many areas in the US, Spam is a joke, but back then it wasn't. It was a hardy, protein packed meal compared to the other canned foods (tomatoes, potatoes, beans, etc.).

Hobos kept their own spoons. I'm not sure why. The only reason I could come up with was for sanitary purposes, but when you live that kind of life, does germs on a spoon matter?

There were gangs of children (safety in numbers) tramping all over the country.

The part about city folk stashing extra alcohol outside the city was my own insertion. I just figured that the underground, so used to having a limitless supply of alcohol (so long as they could hide it) would chafe under the regulations once prohibition ended.

Human trafficking became illegal earlier than 1935, but I'm guessing it didn't disappear, it just went underground. Especially since prostitution increased so much during the Great Depression.

Sorry if my rambling in the notes is getting lengthy. I'm actually learning a lot about this era that I didn't know before, and I find it fascinating. I'll try to slim the notes down some in future chapters.