Sunny and Dalton have been on the road for months. Since their multi-platinum band broke up in California, they have been driving an RV all over the West Coast and into Idaho. Her pregnancy was unplanned and unwanted; they simply had no time during their last tour to do anything about it. Dalton refuses to name the child and cannot stand her crying, so Sunny takes her out for long walks through the wilderness and into the small Idaho town near their campsite, and thinks about a different name for her every day. But it won't always be summer, she realizes. If she can't keep the baby quiet, Dalton will leave her. She won't be able to feed it forever, either. As Sunny walks through the forest, the sensation of the land's frontier rawness, its mean streak, its knowledge of nature's inevitable cruelty, strikes her. Eating trout from the Snake River makes her think about rituals and primitivity—the reasons why they named their band Pagan Night. When Dalton asks what she's thinking, though, she always replies, "nothing." Sometimes, she takes the baby, today named Willow, into the zoo, where she remembers her father's abuse, misses various drugs, and wonders at the dangerous animals, some of which are surprisingly rare for a tiny Idaho town. On Sundays, Sunny and Dalton often go fishing and walk around the woods with the baby, ostensibly to relax with each other. This is why she often calls her child Sunday. But, by July, she's begun to understand the real point of this ritual. It's practice for an accident. Or maybe a forgetting. Someday they, animals, barbarians, heathens that they are, will leave their child to die.