A few days earlier, a woman arrived. She'd hitchiked most of the way there, walking in between and camping out wherever the day ended.

Not that there weren't complications, of course. Shoes were the first to be abandoned, heavy things that got caught on something, and then her feet came out like a cork. And when one's soles have the solidity of a pillow, they don't need protecting from pointed rocks. Next to go were her pants, which kept falling down every time she stretched taller and her waist got thinner.

It turned out there were lots of things Muriel didn't need any more. Even a conventional tent had been abandoned at a rest-stop with a 'Free' sign pinned to the packaging. It was just as easy to sleep in the treetops, drooped back and forth over a sturdy branch like an python.

Maybe it was something to do with the apparent plant-affinity she'd ended up with that nature was providing... then again, it was still far easier to acquire food and water in shops than the wilderness, so plant-bondings would only provide so much.

Eventually, however, Muriel reached the meeting spot, from behind. She was interested to see what was going on, but the last time she'd been called a 'Flower Child', Uncle Sam hadn't been taking names to send them all Christmas cards. Still, with room for three hundred, nobody was likely to notice an extra person, right? She just wouldn't tell people which cabin she was in, and they'd assume it was one that wasn't theirs.


All of which is why a seemingly-young woman wearing only a long t-shirt and a bikini, with local wildflowers in her hair and a fannypack of party drugs snuck into the campgrounds unregistered and arrived at the cabins from one of the wilderness trails.