He has no home, no name, nothing. Once, he remembers, there was a mother who was nice to him, but that was too long ago. He was to rely on himself now, and himself only. Wandering westward, picking fruit on various farms to make money, that's the way things are. If you don't keep up with the rest of pickers, you'll be left behind. Then he realizes that there are people who care, who want to care for him. They befriend him, give him a name, an identity, everything he's ever longed for. Life is good. But is it too good to last?