Those giant wheels turned out to be house-sized armadillos, hooked up to the sleds by a bit and bridle specially made so that their favored method of locomotion didn't damage it.

Each sled was easily twice as wide as the animals pulling them, with squat houses built near the back and driven by short, heavily muscled men, sometimes in pairs and others on their own. People began to file out of the sled-houses before they had come to a complete stop, hopping off and working as a team to free their beasts from their harnesses. The drivers did the same soon after they had stopped.

Beck started to walk over, but Kenna pulled him back. "Let me. I'm supposed to be making connections for when I take over the tribe, anyway."

He nodded. "After you, then, princess."

That earned an amused snort from the chief's daughter. As they approached, a group from the tribe broke off and headed into town, avoiding the two of them while making a beeline for the cabins. Considering the construction of the sleds and the location of the town, as well as a few unladen armadillos near the back of their convoy, Beck had a good idea of what they were doing.

Kenna led the way to a sled larger than the rest, both in width and in terms of the proportion that the house section took up. Where the others were up to half the length of the sled, this one had been constructed to where it took up almost the entire thing, leaving only the driver's area, sized to harness two of their armadillos, before the walls began.

The massive woman cleared her throat before calling out, "Brundago, Tunkadi. I am Kenna, daughter of Kennett, of the Kode. I am on Dotsp', and seek an audience with your chieftain."

A moment later, the door to the sled-house opened, revealing a middle-aged man seemingly typical of the Tunkadi; Short and barrel-chested, with muscle like thick cords of rope. They stood in silence, each studying the other. Before long, though, the granite face cracked into a smile. "So, the old firebrand's little girl turned out just like him." He barked a laugh.

Kenna breathed a sigh. "So I've heard. May we come in?"

The man nodded and stepped aside, motioning for them to enter. The first room was mostly taken up by low tables, likely enough to seat the whole tribe. The assumed chief sat at the head of the nearest table and motioned for them to do likewise. "Have you eaten yet? We will have dinner before long, and it would not do to let you go without while on Dotsp'."

Kenna shook her head. "Not yet. We would be honored to join, if you would have us."

The conversation continued on, but Beck wasn't really listening. Would they take us back to Oasis? No, they probably wouldn't want to go that far out of their way. If they're headin' out that way, though, we could ask to hitch a ride. They certainly seem friendly enough. Still, he wasn't about to interrupt them.

"So, who is the young man you have brought along?" And now the conversation had turned to him.

Kenna's golden eyes found his, and she clapped a hand on his shoulder. "This is Beck. We found him half-dead, and I nursed him back to health. He barely had any Skills, but he's been a great help. Always seems like one of us is getting the other out of trouble. He was deputized just a few days ago."

Beck nodded along to her explanation, but the chief's eyes never left his face. "It sounds like he will make a great companion for when you take the reins from your father."

She waved a hand between them. "Oh, I don't think he would be interested-"

"Why not? If y'all hadn't took care a' me, I'd be dead a hundred times over. You just let me know what you need."

The giant woman dropped her face into her hands. The chief simply extended his hand toward Beck. "See? He has no issue. So what is the problem?"

Her voice came muffled by her hands. "Can we talk about something else for now?"

That was his cue. "I actually do have a question. Where are y'all plannin' on headin' to next?"

The chief took a moment to adjust to the topic change. "We plan to stop at Oasis in two days to replenish our water stores. Why do you ask?"

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Kenna withdrew her face from her hands, her expression asking the same question. "I was actually plannin' to ask if you'd take us out that way. There's somethin' there I gotta take care of."

The chief's eyes turned to Kenna. "And you? Do you wish to join us?"

She nodded, avoiding direct eye contact with the man.

He nodded. "Very well. You may stay in the guest rooms of my mezanka. We will leave tomorrow."

With that, Beck excused himself to retrieve their luggage. By the time he had gotten everything in the barracks-style guest room, dinner had been served. A stew made mainly from mushrooms and small game.

---

They made it to Oasis without issue. The pair said their farewells to the Tunkadi and moved on.

Kenna went on to get a room and store their things. Meanwhile, Beck headed to the Sheriff's office. When he entered, the place seemed completely deserted. There weren't even the usual drunks sleeping off their hangovers.

As he walked back out into the nearly-deserted street, he caught sight of exactly what he was looking for. A pair of horns stuck through the wide brim of a hat, walking directly towards him. He began his own approach, slowly loosening his whip from waist.

Once he was within striking distance, the whip lashed out at the walking corpse. Unfortunately, it struck empty air. As he reset his position, a full-sized knife sailed directly next to his ear, freeing a few hairs from his head. An unholy growl emanated from the skeleton's non-existent throat, "I don't know what you think you're doing, boy, but you're messin' with wrong goat."

"Tell that to my parents, you son of a bitch!" He lashed out again, tears streaming down his face. The crack of the whip turned heads just the same as it drove what few people were there to the sides of the road. All it ever found was air. Another knife sailed through the air, forcing him to move. Even still, the blade cut a thin line along his brow.

The dust that had been kicked up around him was his first clue. The knife against his neck was the second. The skull actually wasn't bare; a Van Dyke beard clung to its skinless chin, with similar white hair falling from where its scalp should have been. There was a flash of scales through the empty sockets, followed closely by the distinct sound of a rattler. "Now, I'm contract-u-ally obligated to give you a second chance. So, drop the whip, and we can talk about whatever it is that made you think that this was a good idea. Alright?"

Beck had no choice but to comply. As soon as the whip hit the ground, the rotter kicked it away; it wasn't all that effective due to its construction, but the attempt was made. With the knife leading the way, the two of them went into the Sheriff's office. Before long, he was in a cell. "Now, I don't think we ever met. My name is Jumbuck Gryder. Now, why'd you go and try that?"

He was quiet for a long while, only partially to gather his thoughts. When he finally spoke, his voice was low. "Rotters killed Ma 'n Pa. Whole town. Ain't but two of us left, now. And I swore, I'd never let your kind hurt nobody. Never again."

A sigh whistled through the old bones. "So, you're the boy the Sheriff's been talkin' about. In that case, you should know I'm a Delouk."

His foot found the bars, "I don't give a shit what you say you are. You're still one a' them. And if you are a Slave Knight, ain't you s'posed to wear a mask? Where is it?"

The thing that should not be pulled a metal mask from its duster. The snake in its skull crawled out and along its arm. "Don't fit. Even if it did, I wouldn't be able to get Ol' Rattlebones in or out with it on. I think I get it now, though. Let me tell you a little story.

Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, a young satyr ran so hard, so fast, that he didn't realize till he stopped that he'd come out some kinda portal till it was too late. Now, he was stuck in a desert full of spell-slingin' ne'er-do-wells, and he had to survive with nothin but the lil' lute strapped to his back. So, he picked up some tricks, searchin all the while for a way home. Then the Grim Riders came to town. Dragged him back to the Blacktop. And they worked him to the bone.

But he was clever, this satyr. Even after all his flesh fell away, he was able to get out, with a little help from his pet snake." The rattler, curled around the skeleton's wrist, started to rattling again. "Yeah, yeah, that's you, Rat. Anyway, the satyr wasn't gettin anywhere civilized lookin like he did, and he didn't feel no love for the bastards what took him, so he struck a deal with Magir. He'd help out the Church, fight the Riders wherever he could find 'em, and in exchange, he'd have some protection. Wouldn't have people tryin to kill him soon as they saw under the hat. You get where I'm goin, boy? You ain't the only one got issues with them rottin sumbitches."

The story was both easy and hard to believe. The Riders in the story made sense, but Magir making any kind of deal with an undead? The thing he hated most? Even if he was turned against his will, how did he keep his mind? So many questions swirled within his head, all culminating in one word, "Why?" The satyr just cocked its skull. "Why would the Church do that? Their first priority is 'the complete and utter annihilation of any and all of those who live after death'."

"You put too much faith in those books, boy. In his eyes, and his church's, I'm no more than a tool. Them Archangels ain't the saints your history books make em out to be. If it helps 'em get what they want, they'll use any means necessary. It just so happens that our goals align. Roughly."

Beck couldn't even start to process everything he had just been told. The Archangels saved the world from the demons. Then again, him and his friends had killed a demon below this very city, and they were all supposed to be in Hell. But... Ma was a Crow... If she was so devoted to something that would go back on its own principles just to have one soldier in a war...

The door slammed open, jarring him from his thoughts. The Sheriff had returned.