The sound of singing woke Patrick and sent him crawling out of the tent. Stone and Justine had lined up a troop of children and had them practising the song that had made its way through the tent City since it won its writers the white flag. In the week since he'd been going to the library the competition had spread through the entire camp and there were dozens of judges who scoured the camps constantly to determine which section, block and tent would host the flag for the day.
Justine and Stone were determined to bring the flag home for at least one night. This chorus was obviously their latest scheme.
"Morning, Dad," she said, "tea's in the pot."
"Choir sounds good," he said as he poured a cup.
"Really?"
"Yes."
"We're going to the gate to sing the song for the City folk. It seems a
