The wasteland had long since swallowed the light, leaving only the faint shimmer of stars above and the cold bite of night at their backs. Vigdis worked quickly, her movements deliberate as she cleared a space for their fire. The ground was dry, cracked like old bones, and the night’s chill seeped into every breath.
Jenny sat nearby, cross-legged on a patch of dirt, her rifle resting against her knee. She watched Vigdis for a moment, chewing the inside of her cheek. It had been hours of walking in silence, the kind that stretched taut between two people with too much to say and no idea where to begin.
The fire sputtered to life, its orange glow licking at Vigdis’ sharp features. She leaned back on her haunches, wiping her hands against her thighs before settling against a rock. Her axe rested within arm’s reach, its blade catching the firelight, and she didn’t look at Jenny once.
Jenny sighed, the sound loud in the stillness. “We can’t just sit here all night like this.”
Vigdis didn’t respond, her eyes fixed on the flickering flames. Her fingers drummed once against her knee before going still.
“Look,” Jenny tried again, leaning forward. “I get that you’re not exactly the chatty type, but—”
“I’m not the girl talk type either,” Vigdis cut in, her voice flat. Her green eyes flicked to Jenny, sharp and unflinching.
Jenny blinked, her mouth opening and closing before she finally managed a wry smile. “Noted.”
Silence fell again, heavier this time. Jenny stared into the fire, the flames reflecting in her grey eyes. She tapped her fingers against her leg, fidgeting in the way Vigdis found distinctly irritating.
“You’re good at that,” Jenny said suddenly, gesturing vaguely toward the axe. “The whole ‘keep-to-yourself, mysterious lone wolf’ thing. It’s impressive. Really.”
Vigdis exhaled sharply through her nose—not quite a laugh, but close. “Not a performance.”
She stood abruptly, brushing dirt from her hands. “I need a moment,” she muttered, more to herself than to Jenny, before snatching up her axe and walking away from the fire.
Jenny blinked, startled. “Uh, sure. Take your time,” she said, half under her breath, watching as Vigdis moved toward the darker edge of their makeshift camp. “Weirdo.”
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Vigdis stopped just beyond the reach of the firelight, far enough that Jenny’s voice faded but the flicker of flames still painted the horizon. She paced slowly back and forth, her boots crunching softly against the dry earth. The axe’s haft rested firmly in her grip, her green eyes flicking to the blade, now dull in the moonlight, as if searching it for answers.
“Alright, Patrick,” she murmured, her tone sharper than usual. “What the hell happened back there? That... power?”
The axe was silent for a moment, its weight settling in her hands. Then his voice came, smooth as whiskey and just as biting. “That’s a fine ‘thank you,’ lass. Truly, I’ve never felt more appreciated.”
Vigdis rolled her eyes. “Spare me the wit, Sir Patrick. I need answers. That surge, the strength—it wasn’t just me.”
“Ah, you noticed,” Patrick replied, his voice gaining a faint edge of pride. “Thought I might’ve been too subtle.”
Her grip tightened. “Subtle isn’t the word I’d use. Explain.”
Patrick sighed, his tone shifting to something more thoughtful. “It’s not the axe, lass. Not entirely. What you felt—it’s the bond. Our bond. You’ve carried me longer than most, and it’s grown... deeper. Stronger. Maybe even enough to draw on more than steel and sinew.”
Vigdis frowned. “This ever happen before?”
Patrick’s voice softened, tinged with something more solemn. “Not in my experience.”
Her brow furrowed. “What about the battle?”
“Aye,” he said, his voice distant. “I fought with everything I had—blade, fury, conviction. But that was mortal strength, forged in the heat of purpose. What you felt? That surge? That was something else. Something... other.”
Vigdis paced back and forth, her boots crunching against the ground. “So you’re saying... this bond is growing into something new?”
“Possibly,” Patrick admitted. “Desperation, determination, call it what you like. But it’s uncharted ground, lass. A bit like wandering into a bog and hoping for solid footing.”
She snorted, shaking her head. “Perfect. Just perfect.”
They stood—or rather, she stood while he metaphorically loitered—in silence for a long moment. The night around them was still, broken only by the faint crackle of the distant fire.
“You don’t trust it,” Patrick said finally, his tone softer.
Vigdis glanced at the axe. “No. But I trust me. And that’ll have to do.”
Patrick chuckled, low and rich. “That’s good enough for now, lass.”
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Vigdis returned to the fire, the axe slung casually over her shoulder. She kept her expression neutral, but Jenny’s raised eyebrow and faint smirk were impossible to miss.
“What?” Vigdis asked flatly, dropping back into her spot near the fire.
Jenny shrugged, her grin widening. “Nothing. Just wondering what you and the air were talking about.”
Vigdis glared at her. “I wasn’t—”
“C’mon,” Jenny said. “We’re gonna be spending quite some time together. Might as well get to know each other.”
Vigdis didn’t answer, her gaze fixed on the fire. Her hands tightened briefly on the axe before loosening again.
Jenny leaned forward slightly. “So... what was that about?” she asked, her tone lighter but curious.
Vigdis’ shoulders shifted, her cloak falling slightly. She hesitated, then finally spoke. “The axe. There’s a ghost in it.”
Jenny blinked, tilting her head. “I’m sorry, what?”
“You heard me,” Vigdis said flatly, her green eyes meeting Jenny’s across the fire. “Sir Patrick. He’s tied to this axe. Has been for years.”
Jenny’s lips twitched into a smile. “Like... a literal ghost? Or is this one of those metaphorical, warrior’s-legacy kind of things?”
“Literal,” Vigdis replied, her tone leaving no room for doubt. “He talks. Helps in a fight. Sometimes more.”
Jenny let out a soft laugh, more incredulous than mocking. “Okay, now I really want to hear more. Is he here now? Watching us?”
Vigdis smirked faintly, her expression dry. “He’s never materialized before. That would’ve helped a lot back in the cells. Not sure he has a form outside of the axe.”
Jenny chuckled, shaking her head. “This is officially the weirdest campfire conversation I’ve ever had.”
Vigdis shrugged, as the fire crackled between them. “Get used to it.”
The night stretched long over the camp, the fire crackling softly in the oppressive stillness of the wasteland. What had started as an awkward, reluctant exchange began to evolve into something resembling camaraderie—albeit laced with caution and the weight of their respective pasts.
Jenny, hesitant at first, eventually found her voice. Once she began, her story spilled out in pieces, each fragment sharpening the picture of her life. She recounted her upbringing in Bunker 7, a place of rigid discipline and suffocating rules. Her voice faltered as she described the day her confidence got the better of her, the mistake that had compromised critical systems and branded her as reckless. That single moment of failure had propelled her decision to leave, to prove she could survive and succeed beyond the bunker’s walls. She spoke of her first steps into the wasteland, her encounter with Reed, and the gang that became her unlikely refuge. She didn’t shy away from the uglier truths, admitting the lies she’d told to secure Reed’s help and the uneasy alliances she’d forged to survive. By the end, her voice was quiet but steady, her grey eyes fixed on the fire as if daring Vigdis to judge her.
Vigdis, true to her nature, offered far less. She paced the perimeter of the firelight as she spoke, her green eyes scanning the darkness as if expecting danger to materialize. She mentioned the Hollow King, her encounters with the monstrous entity recounted in clipped, pragmatic detail. Each battle had left her scarred, both physically and mentally, but she shared no speculation about the creature’s nature or its persistence. From there, she moved on to the raider arena, a grim episode in which she had fought for her life under the watchful eyes of cruel spectators and a self-proclaimed king. The mention of Sir Patrick came almost as an afterthought, her tone light but edged with a quiet respect as she described the day she first heard his voice from within the axe. Yet she left much unsaid, her omissions deliberate and unyielding.
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By the time the fire had burned low, the weight of their stories had settled between them, heavy and unspoken. Neither woman offered platitudes or assurances, but something had shifted. The silence that followed was less strained, more contemplative—a shared understanding that, for all their differences, survival in the wasteland demanded a certain measure of trust.
When Vigdis finally stretched out near the dying embers, her axe resting close at hand, Jenny leaned back against her pack, her rifle propped beside her. Neither said goodnight. They simply settled into the uneasy rhythm of companionship, the firelight casting long shadows over the wasteland as the night took hold.
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The wasteland opened into a surprising, almost surreal sight: a small oasis nestled amidst barren terrain. The water was clear and still, surrounded by sparse vegetation—a rare reprieve in an otherwise harsh landscape. It was morning, just an hour after they had packed up their camp and begun moving again, when Vigdis and Jenny stumbled upon it. The sight offered both a physical and emotional respite.
Vigdis crouched by the water’s edge first, scooping a handful and letting it trickle through her fingers. She sniffed it, her green eyes narrowing thoughtfully, then swished it around in her palm. Finally, she sipped a small amount and spat it out, nodding to herself. Only then did she shed her gear and step into the cool water without hesitation. She washed with a matter-of-fact efficiency, the grime of the road swirling away into the ripples. Her axe rested nearby, its gleaming edge catching the sunlight. Jenny hesitated, lingering at the edge. The sight of the water tempted her, but the vulnerability of undressing, combined with the awkwardness of her missing arm, kept her rooted in place.
“You coming or not?” Vigdis asked, her voice calm and practical. She didn’t look back, scrubbing her arms clean.
Jenny sighed, glancing at the harness fitted across her shoulder, then at the water. Reluctantly, she set her gear aside and waded in, her movements less certain than Vigdis’. She struggled to scrub her back, the motion awkward with one arm. Vigdis noticed but didn’t comment. Instead, she stepped over, took the cloth, and wordlessly began washing Jenny’s back. Her touch was firm but careful, the act pragmatic rather than tender.
“Thanks,” Jenny muttered, her cheeks faintly flushed.
“Don’t mention it,” Vigdis replied, her tone devoid of ceremony. She finished quickly and moved away, giving Jenny space.
The water dripped from their bodies as Vigdis and Jenny stepped onto the sandy shore. The morning sunlight warmed their skin as they lay down on the sand, letting the moment of peace stretch longer than planned. Vigdis closed her eyes briefly, her chest rising and falling with steady breaths, while Jenny stared up at the wide expanse of blue above, her gaze catching on a strange silhouette soaring high above—a creature with vast, bat-like wings, too far to make out clearly.
“Weird place for a bird,” Jenny muttered, more to herself than to Vigdis.
“Not a bird,” Vigdis replied lazily, her voice unbothered.
For a few minutes, they basked in the stillness, the distant caws of unseen creatures mingling with the faint rustle of dry leaves. The moment felt almost surreal, a pocket of calm in a world that rarely allowed for it.
The calm broke with Jenny’s voice cutting through the quiet. “So, those scars of yours—there’s a story behind each one, I bet.”
Vigdis cracked an eye open, smirking slightly as she glanced down at the crisscross of pale lines on her arms. “Some more interesting than others.”
Jenny sat cross-legged, her posture relaxed yet focused, her single arm resting on her knee for balance. “Humor me. What about that one?” She pointed toward a jagged scar cutting across Vigdis’s bicep, her finger steady and inquisitive.
“Raiders,” Vigdis replied simply. “They learned to aim for the unarmored spots. Didn’t help them much.”
Jenny’s finger moved to faint claw marks trailing down Vigdis’s thigh. “And that one?”
“Big cat. I won.”
Jenny snickered, shaking her head. “You’ve got a story for everything. What about… that one?” Her finger hesitated over a long, deep scar curving across Vigdis’s ribs, a mark that seemed heavier somehow.
Vigdis’s smirk softened as her gaze dropped momentarily. Her pause baited Jenny into expecting a tale of harrowing survival. Instead, Vigdis straightened, her voice deadpan. “A tree branch.”
Jenny blinked, her laughter bubbling up involuntarily. “A… tree branch?”
“It was sharp,” Vigdis added with a shrug, her lips twitching as she tried to keep a straight face.
Jenny doubled over, clutching her stomach. “You—wait. You’re telling me the woman who took down a magic murder tree nearly got taken out by a simple stick?”
Vigdis leaned forward, her smirk widening. “Don’t underestimate nature. It’s the cruelest thing out here.”
Jenny wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, still chuckling. “Remind me never to take you on a hike.”
The laughter echoed softly across the wasteland, a brief moment of absurdity brightening the harsh landscape before the world’s weight settled back around them.
Then, a faint rustling sound reached their ears—too close to be the wind. Vigdis’s eyes snapped open. She sat up quickly, scanning the treeline. Jenny, following her lead, pushed herself up on one elbow.
“Did you hear that?” Jenny asked.
“Mm-hm,” Vigdis murmured, her tone sharp now. She reached out for her cloak instinctively, only to grab at empty air. Her green eyes narrowed as realization dawned, and a sharp curse escaped her lips.
Jenny, already flustered, glanced around wildly. “Tell me this is some kind of sick joke,” she muttered, her voice tinged with embarrassment.
Vigdis crouched, her sharp gaze sweeping the area. The absence of their clothes sent a chill through her that had nothing to do with the cool morning air. The sound of muffled laughter reached her ears, faint but unmistakable. Her eyes narrowed, and she straightened slightly, listening. Reaching down, she picked up her axe, the familiar weight grounding her as she focused on the direction of the noise. “Stay here,” she said shortly, striding toward the edge of the clearing where faint indentations marred the sandy ground.
The prints were messy, the gait uneven, as if whoever had taken their belongings was either careless or cocky. “Footprints. Two of them,” she said, her voice flat.
Jenny stalked up behind her, her left arm crossing awkwardly over her chest. “Of course they didn’t think to cover their tracks,” she muttered. “Idiots.”
Vigdis glanced up at her, one eyebrow raised. “Let’s see if they’re as stupid as they seem.”
Following the trail, the pair moved quickly but quietly through the uneven terrain. Vigdis’s axe rested against her shoulder, a visible promise of consequences. Jenny’s grey eyes darted nervously around, her irritation bubbling just beneath the surface.
As they rounded a boulder, faint laughter reached their ears, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone tripping and a hissed, “Shut up! They’ll hear us!”
The two women exchanged a glance. Vigdis tightened her grip on the axe. “We’ll make sure they wish we hadn’t,” she growled.
The trail led them to a pair of boys, perched on a rock like smug crows. One, lanky and perhaps thirteen, was draping Jenny’s harness over his shoulders with exaggerated drama. He struck a mock-heroic pose, earning a snicker from his shorter companion, who clutched Vigdis’s cloak like a prized trophy. The smaller boy twirled in place, the tattered fabric trailing behind him like a noble’s cape.
Jenny strode forward, her indignation spilling over. “Are you kidding me?” she snapped, her voice sharp and incredulous. “You stole our clothes?” Her emphasis on the word "you" landed like a blow, making the boys flinch as if caught red-handed by a furious storm.
The taller boy froze mid-pose, his face draining of color. The shorter one nearly tripped over the cloak in his scramble to backpedal.
Vigdis stepped up beside Jenny, her tall, muscular frame bare save for the axe resting against her shoulder. The sunlight glinted off her damp skin, highlighting the faint scars that traced across her arms and chest like a map of battles won. Her green eyes, piercing and unyielding, bored into the boys, who shrank under her commanding presence. “Hand them over,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. “Now.”
The boys scrambled to comply, their bravado evaporating under the weight of Vigdis’s glare. “We were just kidding!” the taller one stammered, tossing the harness and cloak onto the pile of their stolen clothes.
“It was his idea!” the shorter one added, pointing at his friend as he dropped Jenny’s shirt.
Jenny snatched her gear from the ground, glaring at them as they fumbled over each other in their rush to apologize. “Unbelievable,” she muttered.
As the boys began to back away nervously, Vigdis’s voice cut through the air like a whip. “Did you like the view?” she asked, her tone sharp with mockery.
The taller boy froze, his bravado crumbling as his face flushed crimson. The shorter one, clearly rattled, muttered something unintelligible under his breath as they scrambled to gather the rest of the pile.
As they returned the last of the clothes, Vigdis placed her axe into the sand within arm's reach before beginning to dress. Her movements were deliberate and unhurried, the weight of her presence keeping the boys frozen in place. She eyed them with curiosity as she adjusted her cloak. “Where are you from?” she asked, her voice suddenly quieter but no less commanding.
The taller boy hesitated, glancing at his companion, before stammering, “A… a settlement. Not far from here. By the ridge.”
Vigdis raised an eyebrow. “Random kids wandering the wasteland?”
The shorter boy shook his head quickly. “No! We… we live there. With others. Families. It’s safe. Mostly.”
Jenny, now fastening her harness, shot them a sharp look but said nothing. Vigdis nodded slowly, filing the information away. “Good to know,” she said, her tone neutral. “Now go. And don’t let me catch you stealing again.”
The boys didn’t need to be told twice. They bolted, disappearing over the ridge with bursts of nervous laughter trailing behind them. One called back, “Totally worth it!” before vanishing from sight.
Jenny huffed, pulling her harness back into place. “Wasteland brats.”
Vigdis shrugged as she fastened her cloak, her expression unbothered. “At least they didn’t take the axe,” she said dryly.
Jenny shot her a look, but the corner of her mouth twitched despite herself. They turned back toward the oasis, the tension of the moment melting into the absurdity of their predicament. For all the wasteland’s dangers, it never lacked for surprises.
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The water glinted in the morning sun as Vigdis and Jenny gathered their gear from the sand. The boys’ tracks were still faintly visible, leading off toward the direction they had indicated. The distant ridgeline beckoned, and with their belongings secure, the two women turned their attention to the road ahead.
Jenny adjusted her harness, her movements quick and deliberate, though her expression softened slightly as she glanced toward the horizon. “That settlement they mentioned,” she began, brushing stray sand off her rifle. “If it’s big enough to have dragonhorses, we could cut our travel time. Make things easier.”
Vigdis slung her axe over her back, the weight familiar and steady. She nodded, her green eyes scanning the terrain as if already calculating the journey. “Worth a look,” she said simply, her tone measured.
Jenny caught the faint hesitation in her voice and frowned. “You don’t seem thrilled about it,” she remarked, raising an eyebrow.
“About the settlement? Fine,” Vigdis replied curtly, her gaze fixed ahead. “Horses? Different story.”
Jenny tilted her head, curiosity sparking. “You’ve got something against them?”
Vigdis’s lips twitched, but she didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she started walking, her boots crunching against the dry ground. “Let’s just say,” she called over her shoulder, “horses and I have history.”
Jenny huffed a laugh and followed, her rifle slung across her back. “Now I’m dying to hear that story.”
Vigdis’s smirk deepened faintly, but she kept walking without elaborating as they set off toward the ridge. The settlement loomed as both a promise and a mystery, the wasteland stretching wide and unpredictable between them and their destination.