Sage

The early morning sun filters through the trees, its light casting golden streaks across the camp as Alicia’s people begin to arrive. The faint clatter of carts and the steady rhythm of hooves fill the air, blending with the occasional barked orders and chatter. I stand near the edge of camp, watching as the first group approaches, their expressions cautious but resolute.

Alicia leads the group, her dark braid swinging as she walks beside a tall, broad-shouldered man carrying a rifle. Her second-in-command, I assume. Behind them, a mix of women and men, all of them armed but clearly weary, follow in close formation. The tension is palpable.

Beside me, Dash shifts, his posture protective as he surveys the newcomers. Branson stands to my other side, arms crossed, his sharp gaze assessing the group.

Alicia stops a few paces away, her eyes scanning the camp before landing on me. She nods once, her expression as unreadable as ever. “This the place?”

“It is,” I reply, stepping forward. “Welcome to Branson’s camp.”

Her second-in-command grunts, his grip tightening on his rifle. Alicia glances at him, then back at me. “We’re not here to make friends, Sage. Let’s get down to business.”

Branson steps forward, his voice calm but firm. “We’ve got a spot set up for your people near the east edge of camp. Temporary quarters, for now. We’ll make adjustments as needed.”

Alicia tilts her head, her sharp eyes studying Branson for a moment before she nods. “Fair enough. Let’s talk.”

She gestures for her second to take over the arrivals, and the four of us—Alicia, Branson, Dash, and I—head toward the main cabin where Branson holds meetings.

The air inside is cool and quiet, a stark contrast to the bustling camp outside. Branson shuts the door behind us, and we all take seats around the large table in the center of the room.

Alicia doesn’t waste time. “We’re here because Reeves thinks he’s won something,” she starts, leaning forward, her arms resting on the table. “But we both know this isn’t about the pipeline. It’s about survival. Yours, mine, and everyone else caught in his web.”

Branson nods slowly. “Agreed. The question is: How do we make sure we’re not playing his game anymore?”

Alicia’s sharp gaze flicks to me, then Dash. “Your camp’s strong. Well-organized. But it’s not enough to hold off the Accord if they decide you’re next. My camp’s armed and willing to fight, but we’re outnumbered and vulnerable. Combining forces makes sense, but it’s not without risks.”

I glance at Dash, who gives a small nod, encouraging me to speak. “If we combine camps, we’re stronger together. But it also makes us a bigger target,” I say, voicing the concern that’s been gnawing at me. “Reeves will see it as a challenge, maybe even a threat.”

“Reeves thrives on control,” Dash says, his voice steady. “If he thinks we’re consolidating power, he’ll come for us sooner rather than later.”

Branson leans back in his chair, his gaze thoughtful. “Then we need to make sure the benefits outweigh the risks. What do your people bring to the table, Alicia?”

Alicia’s lips curve into a faint, humorless smile. “Aside from firepower and a willingness to fight back? We’ve got crops. Livestock. Supplies you’ll need to keep this camp running long-term.”

Branson nods, clearly weighing her words. “And what do you need from us?”

“Protection,” she says bluntly. “We’ve been holding our own, but it’s only a matter of time before Reeves decides we’re more trouble than we’re worth. Joining forces keeps my people alive. Simple as that.”

Silence falls over the room as the reality of her words sinks in.

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“If we do this,” I say finally, breaking the quiet, “we’ll need a plan. A way to integrate your people without disrupting the balance we’ve worked so hard to build here.”

Alicia nods. “Agreed. My people are tough, but they’ll need time to adjust. We’re not used to… community.”

Branson’s eyes narrow slightly, his tone measured. “And how do we know we can trust your people to integrate? To follow the rules we’ve established here?”

“You don’t,” Alicia says, her tone flat. “But you don’t have much of a choice, either. You need us as much as we need you.”

Dash leans forward, his arms resting on the table. “Trust takes time. But if this is going to work, we’ll need to set expectations from the start. Clear leadership. Shared resources. Mutual defense.”

Alicia glances at him, her expression hard but approving. “I can agree to that.”

Branson sighs, running a hand through his hair. “This is a big move. If we’re wrong, it could cost us everything.”

“And if we don’t do it, Reeves will pick us off one by one,” I say quietly. “We’re stronger together. We all know it.”

The room falls silent again, the weight of the decision pressing down on all of us.

Finally, Branson nods. “Alright. We’ll work out the details, but if we’re doing this, we’re all in. No half-measures.”

Alicia nods, her expression unyielding. “Agreed. But if you screw us over, Branson, we’ll take our chances on our own. And I promise you won’t like the fallout.”

Branson meets her gaze evenly. “Same goes for you.”

The tension in the room is thick, but beneath it is a shared understanding—a fragile alliance born out of necessity.

Dash’s hand brushes against mine under the table, a small but grounding gesture. I glance at him, and the steady reassurance in his eyes gives me the strength I need to push forward.

Branson leans back in his chair, the wood creaking under his weight, his gaze shifting from Alicia to Dash. “We’ve got a lot to figure out, but the first step is moving your people without raising any alarms. Reeves can’t catch wind of this until it’s too late to stop us.”

Alicia’s lips press into a thin line. “Easier said than done. My camp isn’t exactly light on supplies, and moving everyone quietly isn’t going to be simple.”

Branson nods, his expression serious. “Which is why Dash is going to take point on this.”

Dash straightens slightly, his arms crossed. “You want me to oversee the move?”

“Exactly,” Branson says, his tone firm. “You’ve got a mind for logistics, and you’re the only one I trust to make this happen without tipping anyone off. Greg can’t get even a hint of what we’re planning.”

I glance at Dash, catching the slight furrow in his brow as he processes Branson’s words. He doesn’t hesitate long. “Alright. But this is going to take some serious coordination. How much time are we talking?”

Alicia speaks up, her voice sharp. “We can’t rush this. If we move too fast, it’ll draw attention. But we can’t afford to wait long, either. A week, maybe two, if everything goes smoothly.”

Dash nods, already shifting into problem-solving mode. “I’ll need to see the layout of your camp—supply locations, escape routes, potential weak points. We’ll need to stagger the departures, make it look like regular movements, not a full-scale evacuation.”

Alicia narrows her eyes, clearly scrutinizing him. “You think you can pull this off?”

“If it can be done, I’ll get it done,” Dash replies evenly, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

Branson leans forward, his gaze locked on Dash. “I’ll back you up with whatever you need, but this is on you. If Greg gets suspicious, or if anyone outside our core group catches on…” He doesn’t finish the thought, but the unspoken consequences hang heavy in the air.

Dash nods once, his jaw set. “I’ll handle it.”

Alicia’s gaze flicks between Dash and Branson before landing on me. “What about you, Sage? Where do you fit into this?”

“I’ll work with the people here,” I say, my voice steady. “We’ll need to prepare Branson’s camp for the influx—extra housing, supplies, space for livestock. And I’ll make sure Greg’s attention stays where it needs to be.”

Dash glances at me, a flicker of concern in his eyes. “That’s a lot to take on.”

“I can handle it,” I reply, meeting his gaze.

Alicia smirks faintly. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full, Dash. You sure you can keep up?”

Dash doesn’t take the bait, his focus unwavering. “Just tell me what I need to know.”

Branson reaches for a piece of paper, sliding it across the table to Dash. “Here’s the starting point—coordinates for a meeting with Alicia’s second. He’ll fill you in on the specifics of their layout and resources. After that, it’s up to you to build a plan.”

Dash picks up the paper, scanning it quickly before tucking it into his pocket. “I’ll leave at first light.”

“I’ll send one of my people with you,” Alicia says. “Someone who knows the terrain and can guide you through the safest paths.”

Branson nods. “Good. We’ll touch base every couple of days to make sure everything stays on track. In the meantime, Sage, I want you to start assembling teams to handle the preparations here. Mara can help with logistics on the home front.”

I nod, already mentally organizing the tasks ahead. “Got it.”

The weight of what we’re planning settles over the room, a heavy but necessary burden. If we pull this off, it could change everything—give us the strength to stand up to Reeves and the Accord. But if we fail…

I glance at Dash, catching the determination in his eyes, and I feel a flicker of hope.

We can do this.

We have to.