Noah sat in the box seat of his wagon with his feet propped up and the reins held loosely in one hand. His cowboy hat was unnecessary as the sun was just beginning to set at their backs, but his image, so carefully crafted, would be destroyed without his hat.

He squinted his eyes at the horizon and was just able to make out a structure far off in the distance. Greenwood. A seasoned caravanner wouldn’t call the caravan a success until they had crossed the walls, but they were essentially in the clear now. He had been on some caravans like this one where they never faced a threat, and he had been on others where all the wagons and goods were lost and only a handful of survivors made it back to town. This had been one of the luckier trips.

The tall grasslands that the dirt road had cut through the past few hours slowly turned to the terrain of the coast. Patches of white sand were peppered throughout the clumps of grass now. The breeze picked up from the ocean and blew the air clean of the lingering dust.

The human territory grew in his sight as they traveled on, and Noah began to make out some details of the settlement. A twenty-foot-high stone wall enclosed the entire settlement. Soldiers patrolled the ramparts of the wall, constantly vigilant against any other race looking to expand their territory or make a meal of the humans living within. Rows upon rows containing tens of thousands of spikes stood from the base of the wall to twenty feet out into the Wilds.

Some of the spikes were bone, others wood, and still others iron. Some spikes even had silver arrow tips attached to them. Each spike had a pointed tip but also had other spikes sticking laterally out with sharp tips as well. Any race that decided to invade the settlement had to navigate the stake field carefully or they would destroy themselves before they even reached the wall.

The only entrance into the settlement was over a drawbridge that hung over even more spikes. At the first sign of trouble, the settlers had the ability to pull up the bridge, completely isolating the settlement from any attackers. There was just no way to bypass the spikes unless the attacker slowly made its way through the spike field. Noah glanced up to the walls and could make out the countless ballistas that would make quick work of any such foe idling in the spike fields.

Fields upon fields of farmlands that supported the population inside the walls lined the dirt road. Farmers tended the fields in the last light of day as the caravan passed by. In the sweltering summer heat, they wore broad-rimmed sun hats, but the human settlement compensated them well for feeding the citizens. Men and women paced the edges of the fields armed with swords and crossbows ready to protect the farmers, and more importantly, the farms themselves from any would-be attackers.

Hunters were emerging from the grasslands and forests from all around Greenwood. Some hunters carried small game such as rabbits and squirrels to feed their families. Other hunters pulled sleds with deer or other large game to sell in the market. And still, others were relic hunters who would search for the ruins of the old world and salvage whatever iron or silver they could find.

The farmers, hunters, and caravanners all had one thing in common. They were all returning to the city as dusk fell. There were no guard towers or houses outside of the walls. If the human governor himself returned to the city after dusk, the guards would not open the gate. They enforced the curfew with ruthless efficiency, and the drawbridge waited for none.

Humans had learned hard lessons over the centuries. They couldn’t defend the farmlands. They couldn’t build outside of the walls and expect to hold it. Early in the settlement's founding, the settlers committed near-extinction-level mistakes and established rules with no exceptions. They just weren’t strong or fast enough to battle the Vampires and Shifters directly. They just didn’t have the magic to counter the Fae.

What they had was ingenuity, production, and technology. That, along with their vastly superior numbers, allowed them to carve out sections of this world for themselves. Noah glanced over the side of the drawbridge and saw the thousands and thousands of spikes that had taken decades to install. Rivers of human blood had been spilled for this field of spikes to be built. The humans of Greenwood enjoyed safety on the backs of the sacrifices of their ancestors. His horse’s iron shoes clanged against the wooden drawbridge and created a symphony of safety, along with all the other horses returning to Greenwood.

He gazed up at a stone archway that curved across the top of the gate which led into the city. A giant hammer and spectacles were carved directly into the stone. The territory symbol warned any conquerors what they would face if they dared test their might against the humans. The wisdom to invent ingenious weapons and the crafting to produce them in large quantities. Humans didn’t have magic, they didn’t have physical power, but necessity pushed their creations forward at a rapid pace.

The caravan was inspected thoroughly by the soldiers at the gate before being allowed entry into the city. Each wagon’s canvas tarp was thrown open and all of the goods were rifled through to inspect for outlawed items. Noah sat on his “solid” wooden box seat and tipped his hat to the guards after they had finished their inspection. He sat upon dozens of bottles of fae wine, hidden in the hollowed-out box seat. Greenwood had banned fae wine for decades after nearly a third of the city had become addicted to the sweet wine. Which was why he was about to be paid top silver for the concoction.

He joined the rest of the caravan, who had already obtained access to the city, and together they went to the Stenneck Trading Company. There, they unloaded the wagons and organized the goods for sale at the markets.

Some wagons carried fae globes that were always in high demand. Some carried medicinal herbs that could only be found in the fae territories. The magic seeping from the portal to their homeland transformed the very fauna itself and created otherworldly forests. The herbs found in these enchanted forests were so potent that only a master vampire’s blood was more effective at healing injuries.

Other wagons carried tools that the humans had brought to the fae territory to be enchanted. Farming tools, blacksmith tools, leatherworker tools, and even weapons. The enchantments ranged from sharpening the blade, strengthening the material, or as simple as keeping them from rusting.

In exchange for these materials, the Fae accepted furniture, silver weapons, and other oddities of comfort that entranced them. Some of the fae would request special orders that they paid a fortune for such as human hair, nails, or saliva. What they did with them, no one knew and no one wanted to know. After they had unloaded the wagons, they lined up to receive their stipend of a few silver pieces. Most professions were only paid by the bone or iron, but the caravanners were well compensated for the dangerous trips they made.

Noah turned around once the few pieces of silver were clinking in the hidden pouch of his trench coat. He saw John run over to his daughter and grandson. The family hugged and John picked up the grandson with a laugh, twirling him in the air and causing a shriek of giggles.

He glanced over to see Lazar rush up to a younger girl around eight years old, who promptly threw herself into his arms crying. Lazar patted her back and then flexed his arm as if to show her how invincible he was.

He looked over to see Smith kissing a middle-aged woman who held the hand of a young toddler. He spied Owen looking back and forth, making sure the coast was clear and slipping into an alleyway. A few minutes later, Noah raised his eyebrows in surprise as Lin nervously glanced around before following Owen. He could see them kissing passionately in the shadows before Owen grabbed her hand and led her into a cabin. Noah shook his head with a laugh and wondered how much trouble Owen was in for spilling Lin’s secrets.

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The caravanners left the unloading area one by one with their loved ones until only Noah remained. He looked up at the darkening sky and could spy the outline of a crescent moon in the sky. Countless living beings stared up at its majesty, but it hung in the sky, isolated and alone for all of eternity. He stared sadly at the sight of the moon that had once befuddled his mind and bewitched his senses with its magnificence. Now, he felt nothing.

Noah followed the cobbled streets in a twisting maze until he left the city center and reached the residential areas of the city. The stones of the cobbled street were smooth but uneven and threatened a rolled ankle if he didn’t pay proper attention to his footing. He looked up into the night sky as he heard fluttering and cooing over his head. Pigeons, unseen in the darkened sky, were flying home to their coop. They were highly prized in Greenwood, as they were the only means of communication between human territories close enough for the carrier pigeons to reach.

Homes that were also used as businesses were closest to the city center. Then came mansions of wood and stone that the wealthier residents favored. They were far enough from the city center to avoid the noises, smells, and urchins, but close enough to gain protection from any attackers that breached the walls. The acrid smell of smoke carried through the air as the citizens lit their hearths to cook dinner. He spied families through the open windows, illuminated by fire or fae globes, gathering around to prepare for dinner.

He kept walking and walking until his one-room cottage broke into his vision. This deep into the city, he could hear the roaring waves of the ocean that provided an ironclad protection for the back of the city. No fae territories had been found in the ocean close to Greenwood, and the Shifters would never brave the deep sea. They would lose all the advantages that their strength and speed afforded them if they had to swim for an invasion. The Vampires weren’t a threat from the sea as they physically weren’t capable of crossing large bodies of water. The purifying waters seemed to reject their very essence, just like the sun. It was as safe as a natural barrier could be for the humans.

He tapped his cane against the stone walkway as he followed the path to his cottage. He opened his cottage door and glanced briefly at the small bed and wood table with two chairs. One chair was well-worn while the other was covered in a layer of dust. Besides the bed and table, he possessed a trunk filled with his extensive collection of books, which he had spent a fortune on throughout the years. He pulled an iron key out of his trench coat that he carried on his person at all times and opened the trunk.

Books of all kinds greeted his sight and he smiled. Some were maps of the known surrounding territories. Others were apothecary books. A few were books that identified herbs and their uses. Some were survival books that taught him how to survive not only in the woods but the Wilds themselves. Still others were books that described the known lore of the other races. Their strengths, weaknesses, and societal structures had all been dissected and memorized.

His favorite books were from before the Revolution. Few books had survived the supernatural races’ attack on the humans that had crumbled society, but the ones that had cost Noah a fortune. His favorite books were about cowboys. Free to roam the West as they pleased, answering to no authority. He also had a few English gentleman books that contributed to his speech patterns and cane. He had molded himself into a free-riding cowboy who also dazzled with the charms of an English gentleman. The lasses seemed to like it at the very least.

He sighed, walked over to the wardrobe, and hung his specialty cane next to the rows upon rows of different blades that he could use. He even had a few crude swords of iron and silver and wooden and bone stakes, just in case. Hanging next to the cane was a one-handed crossbow that could fire iron, wood, or silver-tipped bolts. A mirror hung on the door of the wardrobe, and he traced the faded scar on his cheek with his finger.

Such a monumental moment in his life had almost faded away from sight, but unseen scars had never healed. His slightly curled black hair hung down to the nape of his neck. He pulled the hair out of the way to reveal the tattoos that covered his neck. Symbols and intricate lines of ink hid what his hair couldn’t. The designs blended seamlessly into his scars and brand, keeping them hidden from curious eyes. He let his hair fall back with a sigh.

He examined his sparse furniture with a saddened gaze. After risking his life for twelve years, this was all he had to show for his efforts. He sat in his wooden chair and unlaced his boots. With a yank, he pulled them off and began massaging his toes. When he first started as a caravanner, blisters would have covered his feet, but now rough callouses protected his vulnerable skin.

He undressed down to his undergarments and tried his best to drift off to sleep. He twisted and turned for almost an hour until he finally drifted off into the world of dreams that he had come to despise.

Noah was in a forest that he didn’t recognize. He examined the dark trees standing menacingly all around him. The wind blew through the bare branches of the dead trees, creating a haunting whistling noise. He spied nothing colored or moving in the forests, like everything that had once dared to live had been destroyed. A twig snapped and he whirled around with the flaps of his trench coat fluttering. He raised his cane, ready to fight whatever evil called these trees home. His eyes found the source of the noise, and he slowly lowered his cane.

“125?” he gasped. He dropped his cane and rushed forward, throwing his arms around his friend, but his arms found no purchase, slipping through 125’s incorporeal form.

“Trying to hug a ghost, are you Negative 2?” The phantom that was 125 laughed. Noah stared sadly at the ghost of his dead friend that haunted him every time he closed his eyes.

“I’m sorry you didn’t make it 125.”

“Didn’t make it? That’s a pleasant way to say that I died so you could escape. I would have escaped if I had let that vampire gorge on your rare blood type. But no, I had to play the hero and sacrifice myself for my friend.” 125 sneered, his charmingly crooked teeth had sharpened into fangs. Wounds appeared on 125’s neck and blood gushed down his torso.

“And how have you repaid that sacrifice? You have no one, Negative 2. No one that cares for you or loves you. The world remains unaffected by your actions and there is no notable evidence to prove your existence to future generations. You haven’t killed a single vampire and hide from their territories like a coward. Your life spits on my corpse that you left rotting in the forest while you saved yourself.” 125’s body suddenly contorted into twisted angles with the snapping of bones. Noah dropped his cane and grabbed his ears in despair as he tried to block out the agonizing noises.

“No, I have kept my freedom at all costs. No family to shackle me down and no friends that could be used against me. I have done what you would have wanted with your freedom,” he yelled out.

125 cackled at his denials. “Why has the luck of the gods been granted to such an unworthy being?”

Noah bolted upright in his bed, covered in sweat. The familiar dream had haunted his sleep for over twelve years. He struggled to throw his legs out of bed, testing that his wobbly legs would hold him, and walked over to his wardrobe.

He tapped a panel of wood behind his swords and a compartment hidden in the wood popped out with a soft click. A small bundle of silk was tied with a piece of twine, concealing a small object. He unwrapped the twine and pulled out a small, pointed bone. He held the bone up to his face and noticed the off-colored red of the bone dyed from blood.

He slowly closed his eyes and held the bone against his cheek. “Freedom or death 125, but where is the freedom? I left a prison filled with people who loved me, only to find freedom where no one cares if I live or die.”

He stared sadly at the bone and demanded answers from it. “Was it worth it 125? Some days I just don’t know anymore. I haven’t felt fear since that night. I am numb inside and no matter what I try, that hollowness is never filled.”

His stomach rumbled, and he rewrapped the bone shard, placing it back into the hidden compartment. He had no food in his cottage, as his job often took him away from home for weeks at a time. He pulled on his leather boots and grabbed his cowboy hat that would keep the sun out of his eyes and the rain off of his face, but really served no purpose at night. On his way to the door, he grabbed his cane from the table.

He opened his wooden door to a still-sleeping settlement. The roads were empty, and the sun hadn’t risen atop the walls just yet. He whistled as he played with his cane and headed towards the central market to see if he could find anything that could fill the unending void within him.