The settlement came into view as Vigdis and Jenny crested the ridge, the oasis glittering faintly in the distance behind them. The small cluster of homes was cobbled together from salvaged materials, weathered planks and rusted metal sheets forming modest shelters. A few larger structures hinted at communal spaces or storage, their roofs patched with mismatched fabric tarps. Smoke rose from a central firepit, mingling with the faint smell of cooked grain and soil.
Vigdis and Jenny approached, their clothes drying in the heat of the late morning sun, though their damp hair clung stubbornly to their skin. Vigdis adjusted her axe strap, her green eyes scanning the settlement with practiced wariness. Jenny walked beside her, her rifle strapped securely to her harness, her grey eyes flicking between the buildings.
The first person they encountered was a wiry, middle-aged man tending to a small patch of crops that resembled wheat but had a darker, hardier look. He straightened as they approached, his gaze narrowing. Others began to peek out from doorways and around corners, their faces cautious but curious.
“Morning,” Jenny said, offering a small wave with her left hand. “We’re just passing through.”
The man’s eyes lingered on Vigdis, her imposing frame and weaponry clearly setting him on edge. “Not every day we see strangers here. Especially not ones like you two.”
“Don’t worry. We’re not looking for trouble,” Vigdis said evenly, her voice calm but firm.
The man relaxed slightly, though his gaze remained wary. “What do you want?”
Jenny glanced past him, her eyes catching on a small paddock at the edge of the settlement where two dragonhorses were tethered. The creatures—their scaled hides shimmering faintly in the sun and tails flicking lazily—looked powerful and restless.
“Those,” Jenny said, nodding toward the paddock. “We could use a couple. To rent, maybe buy.”
The man raised an eyebrow. “Dragonhorses aren’t cheap.”
“We’re not looking for charity,” Jenny replied, her tone brisk. “We can trade or work something out.”
Beside her, Vigdis groaned softly. “Do we really need them?” she muttered. “We’ve managed fine so far.”
Jenny turned to her, exasperation flickering across her face. “Are you really expecting us to leg it all the way? It’s going to take twice as long.”
Vigdis shrugged, her expression unreadable. “I’ve walked worse.”
The man’s lips quirked in a faint smile as he crossed his arms. “Well, if you’re serious about those dragonhorses, we might be able to work something out. But it’ll cost you… a bit of help.”
Vigdis’s stance shifted slightly, the weariness of familiarity settling into her shoulders. “What kind of help?”
“One of the kids…” the man began, glancing toward a group of houses further back in the settlement. “He wandered off yesterday and hasn’t come back. Happens sometimes, but it’s been longer than usual. His folks are worried.”
Jenny muttered under her breath, clearly annoyed. “This is going to take time.”
“It’s what it is,” Vigdis said, her voice quiet but resigned. “We help. That’s the trade.”
As the conversation continued, Jenny’s gaze drifted toward one of the smaller houses nearby. Standing half-hidden by the doorway was a familiar face: the younger of the two boys who had stolen their clothes. His eyes went wide when he realized she had noticed him. Face flushing red, he bolted inside, slamming the door behind him.
Jenny smirked, nudging Vigdis with her elbow. “Looks like someone remembers us.”
Vigdis followed her gaze, her lips curving into a faint smile. “Let’s hope he doesn’t cause more trouble.”
The man leading the conversation turned back to them, his expression earnest. “So? Will you help us? Bring the boy back safe, and the dragonhorses are yours.”
Vigdis nodded. “We’ll bring him back.”
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The boy’s mother was a thin woman with worry etched into her face. Her hands twisted a threadbare cloth as she stood in the doorway of her modest home, her eyes darting between Vigdis and Jenny. Inside, the dim light revealed a small, cluttered space—a simple but functional home.
“My boy, Ren,” she began, her voice trembling slightly. “He was out yesterday morning. Said he wanted to bring back something for dinner. Rabbits, probably. But the day passed, and when he didn’t come back by nightfall…”
Jenny’s grey eyes softened slightly. “Does he hunt often?”
The woman nodded. “He’s got a good aim with a slingshot. Knows the paths around here well enough, but…” She hesitated, her fingers tightening on the cloth. “Sometimes he’s too brave for his own good. Says he wants to ‘prove himself’ to the others.”
Vigdis exchanged a glance with Jenny. “Did he mention where he might be going? Any trails or spots he’d favor?”
The woman gestured toward the edge of the settlement. “There’s a rocky outcrop just past the brush. He’s hunted there before. Rabbits like to nest near the stones.”
Jenny gave a small nod, her hand adjusting the rifle strapped to her harness. “We’ll find him.”
The path out of the settlement was narrow, winding between dry shrubs and cracked earth. Vigdis led the way, her axe strapped across her back, while Jenny followed, her rifle steady in her grip. The faint tracks of small boots led them deeper into the wilderness.
After a stretch of silence, Vigdis glanced back at Jenny. “Bunker 7. You told me why you left. But what was it like? Really?”
Jenny frowned, her pace slowing slightly as she considered the question. “You mean the rules? The propaganda?”
Vigdis nodded. “Yeah. All that talk about staying safe underground while the world burned above.”
Jenny let out a bitter chuckle. “It wasn’t just safety. They made it sound like we were the last hope for humanity. The perfect society. Everything had a purpose, a system. Your role, your worth, all decided before you even understood what it meant. ‘Efficiency is survival,’ they’d say.”
“Sounds cozy,” Vigdis remarked dryly.
Jenny’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. “Cozy enough until you asked the wrong questions. Or messed up.” She glanced at Vigdis, her expression thoughtful. “Takes time to unlearn all that. To stop hearing their voices in your head, telling you how you’ve failed.”
Vigdis grunted in acknowledgment. “But you did. You got out.”
Jenny nodded. “Yeah. Doesn’t mean they’re not still in there somewhere, though.” She tapped her temple with a finger.
The conversation paused as the tracks veered sharply toward a rocky incline. Vigdis gestured for Jenny to hang back slightly, her green eyes narrowing as she scanned the terrain ahead.
The faint sound of shuffling reached their ears as they crested the ridge. Perched on a high rock, a boy clung to a jagged outcrop, his face pale and his body trembling. Around the base of the rock, three creatures circled—their forms vaguely lupine but twisted, their fur patchy and mottled with scales. Yellow eyes gleamed with predatory hunger as they snapped and growled, claws scraping against the stone.
“Mutts,” Vigdis muttered, her hand already moving to grip her axe. “The boy looks unhurt, just scared. We get rid of these things, and he’ll be fine.”
Jenny raised her rifle, her voice calm but firm. “You take the left two. I’ve got the one closest to him.”
Vigdis gave a curt nod before moving forward, her steps deliberate and silent. She closed the distance quickly, her axe swinging in a powerful arc that cleaved through the first creature’s neck. The second lunged at her, but she sidestepped, burying the blade into its side with a sickening crunch.
The third, sensing an opportunity, leapt toward Vigdis from the boy’s side. A sharp crack echoed across the rocks as Jenny fired, the bullet striking true. The creature crumpled mid-air, landing in a lifeless heap at Vigdis’s feet.
Jenny lowered her rifle, a satisfied smirk on her face. “Jenny 2. Vigdis 0.”
Vigdis shot her a dry look, wiping the blood from her axe. “I had it under control.”
“Sure you did,” Jenny replied, her tone teasing.
The boy, emboldened by their success, began climbing down the rock. His movements were shaky but determined, and he stumbled slightly as he reached the ground. Vigdis steadied him with a hand on his shoulder, her expression softening slightly.
“You alright?” she asked.
The boy nodded, his throat bobbing as he swallowed nervously. “Y-yeah. Just thirsty.”
Jenny handed him a canteen, her voice light. “What were you thinking, coming out here alone?”
The boy’s gaze dropped to the ground. “I wanted to catch some rabbits. Thought I could… prove I wasn’t a kid anymore.” He shifted slightly, the motion revealing two small rabbits tied to his belt, their fur matted but intact.
Vigdis glanced at the lifeless predators. “Where there’s prey, there’s hunters. Keep that in mind next time.”
The boy nodded quickly. Jenny clapped him gently on the back. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”
The trio began their descent, the boy clutching the empty canteen as he stayed close to Vigdis and Jenny. The wasteland stretched wide and unforgiving around them, but for now, they walked with the satisfaction of a task completed.
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The trio moved steadily through the wilderness, the heat of the late afternoon casting long shadows on the ground. Vigdis led the way, her axe resting against her back, her focus sharp as her green eyes scanned the terrain. Behind her, Jenny walked beside the boy, her stride more relaxed as she kept an easy pace to match his shorter steps.
At first, the boy tried to project a confident air, boasting as he swung the rabbits tied to his belt. “You know, this isn’t the first time I’ve caught rabbits,” he said, puffing out his chest. “I’ve been hunting since I was, like, seven. I’m the best with a slingshot in the whole settlement.”
Jenny smirked, glancing down at him. “Is that so? What’s your biggest catch?”
The boy hesitated, clearly caught off guard. “Well, uh… once I got two rabbits at once. One stone, two hits!”
Jenny chuckled, shaking her head. “Impressive.”
As they walked, the boy’s gaze drifted to Jenny’s harness. His eyes lingered on the reinforced pauldron covering her right shoulder, but he quickly averted his gaze when she caught him looking.
“It’s okay to ask,” Jenny said gently, her tone encouraging.
Stolen story; please report.
The boy swallowed hard, then finally worked up the courage. “Does it… hurt? Losing your arm, I mean?”
Jenny’s expression softened. “At first, yeah. But it’s not so bad now. The harness helps with balance, and I’ve learned to work around it. Sometimes it even feels like it’s still there, and then suddenly it’s not.”
The boy frowned, his brows knitting together. “I don’t think I could do it. If I lost my arm, I wouldn’t be able to hunt. Or help my mom.”
Jenny gave him a small smile, her voice tinged with bittersweet emotion. “You’d be surprised. You never really know what you’re capable of until you have to do it. It’s not about being brave from the start. It’s about finding a way when there’s no other choice.”
The boy stared at her, wide-eyed. “You’re braver than me,” he said quietly.
Jenny reached out, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You’re stronger than you think. Don’t forget that.”
Ahead of them, Vigdis continued walking, her broad shoulders tense. Though she didn’t turn around, her pace slowed slightly, and her sharp ears caught every word of their conversation. Her expression remained neutral, but her thoughts churned as she mulled over what she’d overheard.
The settlement came into view just as the sun dipped toward the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. The boy’s mother stood near the central firepit, her hands nervously twisting a rag. When she spotted them, her face lit up with relief, and she rushed forward.
“Ren!” she cried, pulling him into a tight embrace. The boy hugged her back, his face lighting up with a mix of pride and embarrassment as she fussed over him. “You scared me half to death! What were you thinking?”
“I caught these!” Ren exclaimed, holding up the rabbits tied to his belt. “See? Two of them!”
The woman’s stern expression softened as she glanced at the rabbits. “You did good,” she admitted, ruffling his hair. Then her voice sharpened again. “But you’re not going out alone again, you hear me?”
Ren grinned sheepishly. “Yes, ma.”
Jenny and Vigdis watched the reunion from a short distance away, a faint smile tugging at Jenny’s lips. “Looks like he’s got his priorities sorted now,” she said quietly.
Vigdis nodded, her expression unreadable as her green eyes lingered on the boy. “For his sake, I hope so.”
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The dragonhorses stood tethered near the edge of the settlement, their muscular, scaled bodies catching the light of the late afternoon sun. The stallion’s dark, glossy hide shimmered faintly with an iridescent sheen, while the mare’s lighter, coppery scales gave her an almost fiery appearance. Both creatures shifted restlessly, their clawed hooves scraping against the ground and their slitted eyes watching the newcomers warily.
Jenny’s attention was immediately drawn to the mare. Her expression softened as she approached, her hand reaching out slowly. The mare snorted softly but held her ground, her nostrils flaring as Jenny’s fingers brushed against the warm, scaled surface of her neck.
“Hey, girl,” Jenny murmured, her voice low and soothing. Memories of Ember flashed in her mind, bittersweet but grounding. “You’re a beauty.”
The mare leaned into the touch, her head dipping slightly as Jenny stroked her. Without hesitation, Jenny moved to the saddle, mounting the creature with practiced ease. The mare shifted beneath her, her muscles coiling briefly before relaxing as if accepting her new rider.
Nearby, Vigdis stood with her arms crossed, her green eyes fixed on the stallion. The creature turned its head toward her, snorting sharply as its fiery orange gaze met hers. Vigdis’s lips pressed into a thin line, her hand tightening briefly on the strap of her axe.
“Great,” she muttered under her breath. “Just great.”
The stallion pawed at the ground, his movements slow and deliberate. His snort was almost dismissive, a puff of hot air escaping his nostrils as he watched Vigdis with an air of challenge.
Vigdis didn’t move, her gaze locked on the creature. For a moment, the two simply stared at each other, an unspoken tension crackling in the air.
Jenny, already settled on the mare, glanced over her shoulder with a faint smile. “What’s the matter? Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a horse.”
Vigdis shot her a look but said nothing. The stallion snorted again, his fiery eyes narrowing slightly. The standoff stretched, the tension broken only by the faint sound of the mare shifting her weight beneath Jenny.
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Vigdis squared her shoulders, green eyes narrowing as the stallion let out a deep, dismissive snort. His fiery orange gaze tracked her every movement, sharp and calculating, as if daring her to try something stupid.
“You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you?” she muttered under her breath, adjusting the strap of her axe. The stallion pawed at the ground, his iridescent hide catching the light, muscles rippling with what could only be described as pure arrogance.
Behind her, Jenny was already mounted on the mare, watching with barely concealed amusement. “Oh, don’t let him intimidate you. Just hop on.”
Vigdis shot her a look, then turned her attention back to the dragonhorse. “Hop on, she says,” Vigdis grumbled. “It’s not a chair; it’s a damn furnace with legs.”
Taking a cautious step forward, she extended a hand toward the stallion’s neck, her movements deliberate and slow. The dragonhorse didn’t flinch but let out another puff of hot air, his tail flicking sharply behind him.
“Good boy,” she murmured, trying to sound reassuring. The stallion’s ear flicked back at the sound of her voice, but his eyes stayed locked on her like a predator watching prey.
The first touch was brief—her fingertips brushing against warm, scaled skin. But as soon as she reached for the reins, the stallion jerked his head back, a low rumble vibrating in his chest.
“Alright, fine,” Vigdis muttered, her tone dry. “You don’t like reins. Got it.”
From her perch on the mare, Jenny chuckled. “Maybe he just doesn’t like you.”
“Not helpful,” Vigdis shot back.
Gathering her nerve, she took another step closer, this time with more confidence. The stallion didn’t move as she reached for the saddle, her fingers gripping the edge tightly. She paused, glanced up at him, and muttered, “Don’t even think about it.”
With a single swift motion, she pulled herself up, swinging her leg over his back. For one blissful moment, everything was fine.
Then it wasn’t.
The stallion bucked—hard. Vigdis clung to the saddle with all her strength as the dragonhorse reared up, his claws striking the air. A startled yelp escaped her lips, followed by a string of curses as he twisted sharply to the side. The ground seemed to tilt beneath her, and before she could regain her balance, she was unceremoniously dumped onto the dusty earth.
Jenny burst out laughing, clutching the saddle horn as the mare shifted beneath her. “You lasted, what, two seconds?”
Vigdis sat up slowly, brushing dirt from her clothes with a scowl. The stallion stood a few paces away, watching her with what could only be described as smug satisfaction. He pawed the ground again, his tail flicking lazily.
“Alright, you oversized lizard,” Vigdis growled, rising to her feet. “You want to play it that way? Fine.”
Jenny wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “Oh, this is going to be good.”
The second attempt was more calculated. Vigdis didn’t bother with soothing words this time; she simply walked straight up to the stallion, grabbed the reins, and yanked them sharply. The dragonhorse let out a startled snort, his head jerking slightly toward her.
“Enough of your nonsense,” Vigdis snapped, her green eyes blazing. “I’m not here to make friends.”
For a moment, the stallion stilled, his fiery gaze meeting hers in a battle of wills. Then, with a low, begrudging rumble, he lowered his head slightly—just enough for her to take the reins again.
“Good boy,” she muttered, her tone more sarcastic than affectionate.
As she mounted a second time, the stallion shifted beneath her, his muscles tense but no longer rebellious. He snorted once, then began to move forward, his steps slow and deliberate. Vigdis exhaled, her grip on the reins steady.
Jenny grinned, nudging the mare to follow. “Looks like he decided you’re not completely hopeless.”
Vigdis smirked, her confidence returning. “Told you I had it under control.”
Behind them, the stallion’s tail flicked again, this time sending a cloud of dust directly into Vigdis’s face. She coughed, glaring at the dragonhorse.
“On second thought,” she muttered, “maybe I should’ve kept walking.”
As Jenny nudges the mare forward, the stallion, drawn by instinct or curiosity, finally shifts his focus from Vigdis. His powerful legs carry him forward in an easy gait, following the mare as if deciding to tolerate her company. Vigdis narrows her eyes but says nothing, gripping the reins tightly as she adjusts in the saddle.
This doesn’t signal peace—far from it. The tension between Vigdis and the stallion lingers, a clash of wills that promises more skirmishes. For now, they ride on, the wasteland stretching endlessly ahead, the unspoken challenge hanging in the air between horse and rider.
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The landscape shifted slowly as the day stretched on, the barren wastes giving way to a strange, drowned expanse. Vigdis and Jenny rode in relative silence, though for Vigdis, the ride was anything but calm. The stallion beneath her snorted and shifted unpredictably, his fiery gaze flicking back at her every so often, as if testing her resolve. Her grip on the reins tightened, her shoulders stiff as she silently cursed the beast’s arrogance. Every sudden movement sent a jolt through her, and she muttered under her breath, “Furnace with legs.”
Jenny, riding ahead on the mare, seemed at ease. The mare’s calm gait only added to Vigdis’s irritation, though she would never admit it aloud. Jenny glanced back occasionally, her blonde hair catching the light, and though she didn’t say anything, Vigdis caught the faintest smirk. “What’s so funny?” Vigdis finally snapped, her green eyes narrowing.
“Nothing,” Jenny replied, a little too quickly, her voice light. “You’re doing great.”
Vigdis’s scowl deepened, but she said nothing more, focusing instead on the shifting terrain ahead as patches of moss and lichen began to spread across the road. The sun hung low, its light glinting off stagnant pools of water that dotted the terrain. Some of the water had an oily sheen, rippling unnaturally as if alive. Broken remnants of suburban buildings jutted out of the flooded ground, their roofs overgrown with moss and grasses, while their lower halves were submerged beneath the murky, unknown depths.
Jenny wrinkled her nose as a faint, sulfurous odor wafted through the air. “This water… doesn’t look like it’s doing anyone any favors.”
Vigdis, riding slightly ahead on the stallion, gave a curt nod, her green eyes scanning the horizon. The stallion tossed its head, snorting loudly as if protesting her grip, but Vigdis refused to ease up. “Don’t drink it. Don’t touch it. Don’t think about it. Looks worse than it smells.”
Jenny grimaced, glancing down at one particularly large pool. A long-forgotten vehicle, its metal frame corroded and bent, sat half-submerged, its roof peeking out above the waterline. A strange, greenish slime clung to its edges, pulsing faintly. “Yeah, definitely not my idea of refreshing.”
As they climbed a gentle rise, the ground beneath them turned firmer, giving way to an overlook of the flooded district ahead. Beyond the broken homes and stagnant pools, the wasteland seemed to stretch endlessly again. But for now, this stretch of terrain stood as a treacherous barrier.
Vigdis pulled the reins, bringing her dragonhorse to a halt. She turned in the saddle, her gaze meeting Jenny’s. “We camp here. On dry ground. Move through this in daylight.”
Jenny nodded, her expression grim. “Smart call. Don’t want to find out what’s swimming in that after dark.”
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The pair dismounted near a cluster of boulders overlooking the flooded area, a patch of dry land offering relative safety. Vigdis approached the tree with a wary eye on the stallion, whose fiery gaze followed her every movement. She muttered under her breath, “Still testing me, huh?” as she tethered him to a sturdy tree trunk. The dragonhorses shifted restlessly, their scales glinting faintly in the dying light.
Jenny dropped her pack onto the ground, pulling out her bedroll and setting it beside a rock that offered some windbreak. She glanced toward Vigdis, who was eyeing the stallion again as it pawed at the ground. Vigdis finally turned away, scanning the area with her axe resting close at hand. “Think we’ll actually get some sleep tonight?” Jenny asked, a faint edge of humor in her voice.
“Depends,” Vigdis replied without looking up. “On how much this place hates us.”
Jenny chuckled softly, shaking her head as she unrolled her blanket. “Fair enough.”
The campfire crackled to life as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the twisted landscape. The sound of distant croaks and rustling vegetation echoed faintly, a reminder that even here, life had found a way to cling on—though what kind of life remained a question best unanswered.
They ate in relative silence, the tension of the journey weighing on them both. The meal was simple, made up of provisions gifted by the settlement—tough bread, dried meat, and a sweet but unfamiliar paste that spread easily. After eating, they turned their attention to checking their gear.
Jenny unslung her rifle, a modified Winchester Model 1876 Centennial, and carefully inspected its mechanisms. The rifle, a Bunker-made relic, was reliable but demanding—it operated safely only with its own cartridges. Jenny reached into her pack, pulling out the small box of .308 cartridges she had left the Bunker 4 with. Nine had gone into the rifle—one already spent on the wolf—leaving her with eleven packed in her backpack. Satisfied with her count, she set the rifle aside and checked her other weapon: Reed’s knife, its edge still sharp.
Vigdis, meanwhile, went through her own inventory. She unstrapped her crossbow, counting twenty standard bolts before setting them aside. Next, she carefully examined the seven glowing magic bolts made with Tree of Life sap, their faint light casting a pale green hue over her hands. Finally, she ran her hand over the axe resting nearby and checked the small knife strapped to her thigh. These were the tools she trusted with her life, and she made sure none would fail her.
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Vigdis took the first watch, sitting with her back to a boulder as she surveyed the darkened landscape. The dragonhorses shifted occasionally, their snorts and low growls blending with the faint rustling of distant vegetation. Jenny lay on her back nearby, staring up at the gradually appearing stars. Her left hand darted toward her right shoulder, scratching at an itch that refused to fade. The phantom limb sensation was more frustrating than painful now, but the pauldron she wore did its job, both protecting the healing tissue and obstructing her attempts to soothe the itch.
As the camp fell into a companionable silence, Vigdis spoke, her voice low and hesitant. “That boy was right, you know.”
Jenny, her eyes half-lidded as sleep began to creep in, murmured, “Hmm?”
“About you. Being brave.” The words didn’t come easily to Vigdis, her tone awkward.
Jenny smiled faintly to herself, the expression unseen in the dark. “I’m not.”
Vigdis frowned, glancing over at her. “I haven’t met anyone who lost that much and still had the level of positivity you do.”
Jenny’s voice softened, her tone almost reflective. “I’m not brave… I just… I don’t think.”
“What?” Vigdis asked, clearly confused. “I’m not following.”
“Imagine a slingshot,” Jenny began, her voice quiet but steady. “It launched me out of Bunker 7 and into the wastes with this ridiculous idea of a mission to prove myself. That inertia… it’s still pushing me forward. I have no time to think and… accept.”
Vigdis turned her gaze fully to Jenny now, her green eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
“If stuff around me stops happening,” Jenny continued, her voice dipping into a near whisper, “if there’s literal calm and silence and I make an effort of comprehending everything? … I’ll shoot my brains out.”
The quiet that followed was heavy, the crackle of the campfire the only sound between them. Vigdis’s voice broke it, steady but edged with something close to reassurance. “Well, with the way the wasteland keeps surprising us, you won’t get a chance of any real calm for quite a while.”