Chapter Thirty - Greenie

Soon after the storm passed, I shifted back into Rusty’s seat. We’d had a little meal--hardtack and water, mostly, but I’d gotten some fresher bread and some strips of salted long-horn meat too--while we waited.

Once the mists cleared, I was able to take in the open desert and hilly terrain around us once more. It was mostly the same as usual. The winds trailing the storm were a little rough, and the sky was still overcast, but the worst of it had passed.

I moved Rusty out from cover and glanced west-ward, to see if there was anything else coming, but all I saw that way was clear skies.

We set out, going slowly at first as I tested the ground. Water had a tendency to turn the sand into a muddy mess, but usually, by the time the mist clearer, that was no longer an issue. There were also strike-zones, where lightning had hit the ground. Mostly those were glassy craters, but sometimes something about the glass made it hold some magic in, and that could explode even hours after a storm had passed.

The walk was quiet. I heard Clin’s breathing even out after a while, and I suspected that he had fallen asleep.

The elf didn’t seem the sort fit for the kind of stress he was dealing with. Folk like him rarely stuck their noses out of their cities. Took something special to want to venture out into the wastes. It was why it was so much easier to make your fortune out in the sand and the blood.

Still, I had to give it to him, he was taking things fairly well for someone out of their depth. He wasn’t the worst company either. Respectful, most of the time. We weren’t the same sort of folk, but I could imagine myself sharing a beer with him every so often.

I scoffed to myself. He probably drank something fancier than just beer.

Minutes turned to hours, and soon the dark clouds above were swept away, the wind settled down and the sun came beating down onto the world once more.

The horizon turned into a glassy mirage as water was dragged out of the earth.

It wasn’t all bad. The plants came out in force, the few trees tough enough to survive the storms becoming huge green beacons, bushes turning their leaves up to the sun. Birds took to the skies, dancing and chasing each other now that the winds had cleared, and foxes slunk out of their burrows to start looking for their next meal.

Rusty continued to stomp forwards, even as the hour turned late and the brightness of day started to turn towards the darker orange of the evening.

I was just starting to look for a place to settle us down when I noticed a thin plume of smoke out ahead.

It was possible that the storm had set some tree alfame, but it would have burnt out by then. I veered a little to the side.

I could either avoid the fire, or head towards it. If it was trouble, then I had the choice of facing it head-on, or turning my back to it, and I was always more keen on facing things. I’d never mastered firing over my shoulder.

We kept moving towards the fire.

When I crested a slight hill, I was better able to make out the spot it was coming from. Just a knook in the landscape, partially protected by the wind, and in enough of a dip that a few trees had taken root and sprouted up.

Whatever was making the fire was able to hide behind a few scrubland trees. That meant that it was small enough for Rusty to step on, which generally meant it was a problem I could handle.

A bit more assured, I moved around the area, only to see a trio of dogs and what was unmistakably a dwarf in the shade of the trees.

I paused, slowing Rusty to a stop, then raised an arm and waved.

The dwarf waved back, then gestured behind him with a nod before walking off. His dogs followed him.

I hesitated for a bit, then moved closer. The trees weren’t so close together that they’d slow Rusty down any.

The camp around the fire wasn’t anything too special. A couple of rocks set in a circle a long time ago, some smaller stones around a fire-pit currently filled with branches and a couple of tin pots with something cooking away within. A sled sat nearby, long and narrow, with a pair of steel skis beneath.

The dwarf settled down by the fire and stirred the contents of his pots with a long wooden spoon.

I looked over to the sled again. It was covered in a tarp, but a glance through Rusty’s eye revealed whatever was in there to be really hot. Too warm to be a person, at least. I noticed a few dogs nearby, but most of them were staying close to the dwarf.

“Clin,” I said. “Wake up.”

“Hmm? What?” He cleared his throat. “Pardon me?”

“We’ve arrived for the night, maybe. Found a camp, but it doesn’t look like trouble.”

The elf stood. “Where are we?”

“Some patch of trees, still a ways from Daggerwren. Haven’t looked at the stars yet to tell. We might be having company for dinner.”

“Is that safe?”

“Maybe,” I said as I started to shut things off around Rusty. “I have the impression I know what this is all about.”

The dwarf looked up as I shoved Rusty’s door open. Usually, I wasn’t one to be sticking my head out like this. Too paranoid by half, but only because I knew folk really were out to get me. The dwarf though, was garbed in sandy brown cloth, over that he had a long coat, dyed a deep green. His sled had green tassels on it, and even his dogs had scarves around their next that matched.

Weird dogs too, with short brown fur over most of their body, but their back, from their tail all the way to their snout, was covered in long, bushy fur that was nearly entirely black. “Nice dogs,” I said.

The dwarf snorted. “They’re good lads,” he said. “I’ve some food to share, if you want some part of it.”

I nodded and turned back in. “Pass me that box, the one with the meat, and a can of those beans. We’ll be stopping here for the night.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. “Do you... know him?”

“The old dwarf? Nah, but I know his sort.” I grabbed a few things, then climbed down Rusty and landed on the ground with a thump.

One of the dogs, a bit braver than the rest, snuck forward and sniffed at me before darting back. I stared the dog down for a bit, and it slunk back even more. “Bah, don’t mind the dogs, they’re just going to sniff you out a bit. They’re looking forward to supper.”

“Aren’t we all,” I said as I moved up to the fire and sat down on a stone. I was a good couple of paces from the dwarf still. If he pulled something... “You with the greenies?” I asked.

He chuffed. “Greenies! I always liked that name. I am, yes.”

“The greenies?” Clin asked as he came closer.

“The proper name is the Society for the Reclamation and the Regreenification of our Broken World,” the dwarf said. “But we tend to wear green, so greenie works.” He leaned forward and checked on his food.

I opened a can of beans and tossed them into a pan over the fire, then I unwrapped some salted meat and pretended not to notice all the dogs suddenly looking my way. “So what’s a greenie doing all the way out west?” I asked.

“Survey. Following the area to the south of the Fast Depth. Saw the storm coming so we hid away for a bit and then I spent the afternoon collecting storm glass.”

I nodded. “Sounds fair. Got salt?”

“I do!” he said. “More than anyone would know what to do with.

“I think I’ve heard of you,” Clin said as he sat down next to me. The stone was too low, so his knees were drawn up to his chest. “You’re the dwarves trying to turn the desert into a forest.”

“Trying? My boy, give us a few centuries and we’ll turn this entire valley into one grand forest, just you wait.”

I smiled at the dwarf, then stood up to return to Rusty. “Let me get some bowls and spoons and such. You can tell us about your projects while we eat.”

“Aye! I’d love to!” the dwarf said.

***