Maybe the welcome wagon was parked beyond the gate and you just didn't want it to show up.
Maggie paused. There was a brief, flicker of a look back to the chain link as it rattled and swayed with the pressure of bodies, behind the shades and then she turned smartly on the heel of her boots - tooled leather, worn at the heels and struck out after him. She was tall, and the height was mostly in the leg, so the stride was long and Shane was the lone figure out front thus far so there was no confusion about direction.
The heat yawned out overhead. Sweat began to prickle at her temples, clean yellow hair and clean yellow tee-shirt unlikely to stay that way long. Manners - Shane - was not unexpected. The gaunt breadth of frame was. They had clearly been here some time. The prison was a refuge, but it also served its original purpose within the wider landscape.
"So." She fell into step. The voice was companionable, even sunny, the burr at the very back of it scuffed over with time. "This is the whole damn show?"