Through the grimy window, you saw it. A cluster of weathered wooden cabins nestled in a pine valley. A faded sign, nailed to a post near the gravel parking lot, read: "Clearwater Summit - A Place for New Beginnings."

The driver, a man with a thick mustache who hadn't spoken once in the three-hour drive from the station, finally broke his silence.

The bus door hissed open. Hot, pine-scented air washed in, carrying the distant sound of a screen door slamming.