||barrows, dryness, golden-brown, preformed, satcom, terminal, uncertainty, material, wheelbarrow, satellite, packs, onto, shuttle, habit, grey, forward
||Nathan Crowfoot, Joe Crowfoot, Burt Flying Eagle, Flying Eagle Emporium
Nathan Crowfoot took his first steps outside the terminal. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Then he let the breath out and smiled. The air had a richness to it that he could not remember before. Father had mentioned something about a higher oxygen content on this planet. He shrugged. What mattered was that they were finally here.
Nathan reached in his pocket for his satcom. He stopped and took his hand from his pocket. Force of habit, he thought. The satellite communicator only worked on Earth, and it was far away. There was no need for his satcom here. There were no satellites. Nathan wondered if this was such a good idea.
"Let's get a move on, Nathan," said Joe Crowfoot. "We still have a long way to go before we reach our own territory."
Nathan followed his parents, his two sisters, and little brother. The others carried back packs, but Nathan and his father pushed wheel barrows - not metal ones but wooden, with no sides. Their bottom surfaces were long and flat with a short vertical panel to keep things from sliding onto the single wheel. The barrows were loaded with their luggage.Paragraphs 5 to 14:
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