We were getting pretty good at this stuff, hiding out, living rough and tough. It seemed a funny skill to be proud of, but it was a skill. I admired the fox his craftiness, the way he could get into the chookyard and out again, leaving nothing but blood behind. Blood and feathers and a few squawks from the chooks. We were getting mroe like foxes all the time. If they hadn't been there, if they'd been safe in New Zealand, for example, would I still have agreed to goback? It was a horrible question and one I'm glad I didn't have to answer. But all the same, I think I knew deep down what the answer would be. Sometimes there's really only one answer.
Ellie and her friends had been rescued, airlifted out of their own country to the safe haven of New Zealand. They'd arrived burnt and injured and shocked, with broken bones, and scars inside and out.
They did not want to go back.
But five months later the war is not over, the nightmares continue, and there are two compelling reasons for them to return to Australia: A planned sabotage of the air base in Wirrawee, and most important, the families they left behind.
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