Valentine

I woke only grudgingly, resentful of the light streaming through the blinds, and unable to shake the hollow feeling that came with lack of sleep.

I'd been doing it to myself, of course, and I knew that. It was simply that I couldn't bear to let myself fall asleep while Wallace was still beside me. The heat coming off his body, and the reassuring scent of him fresh from the bath made me drowsy, but I'd fight to stay awake, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing and the beat of his heart.

I simply didn't want the moment to end. It was that first night we'd spent here that had made me fall in love with the human inn, but it had been Wallace's remark that we may as well be living in a fortress that made me realize the precariousness of our circumstances.

We were safe, truly safe, for perhaps a few more days. There was always the risk that a group of light cavalry may try to make a suicide run at us, but our foes were not in such a rush. That aside, those with the skills to make such a run would not be easy to convince. No, it was The Long Night that I feared. Each one that passed brought with it the threat of invasion, and in some ways, I found the cure as distasteful as the disease.

The quality and loyalty of any potential subjects was one thing, and there was a particular type of young man I feared inviting into our sanctuary. But that was just it, this was our sanctuary, and I detested the idea of inviting anyone into it.

I had certain juvenile fantasies about the myriad places about our sanctuary that Wallace might have his way if given the proper prompting, and that would be a little troublesome if there were others about. But more broadly, if there were others about, I was going to have to 'behave'.

I couldn't sit out on one of the benches scattered about the park below, snuggled up next to the giant with the squishy heart. I might be trying to sell off my demesne, but even unlanded, I would always be a noblewoman. Unfortunately, there were standards of behaviour noblewomen were expected to maintain. Try as I might to flee from my responsibilities, they always seemed to find some way to constrain me.

It made me realize just how perfect the moment was, and how transient. Even the sound of Wallace's breathing, his heartbeat, made me hold him tighter. His breath came as quickly as if he'd been on a hike, and his heart- Even dead asleep, his heart hammered as if he'd just sprinted up and down the stairs. I knew Wallace would have it no other way, but I felt so guilty that it made me nauseous. Guilty that I was relying on him as a bodyguard, further straining his already overtaxed heart, and guilty that my first thought had been to curse my own luck. To curse the fact that it seemed like everything good in my life was snatched away as quickly as it was given. Wallace was his own person, not some bauble to be given or taken by providence, and it wasn't fair to him to treat him as such. To act as if the confluence of events that had brought him here were the result of some force in the universe seeking to reward or punish me specifically.

Inevitably, my long ponderous thoughts would grow muddled, I would lose my grip on wakefulness, and I'd fall asleep. The first couple of days, Wallace had stayed, letting me sleep on with my head resting on his shoulder as he read quietly. But today, as with yesterday, he'd managed to slip out of bed without waking me.

I sat up and ran my fingers through my hair. I hadn't re-braided it since Wallace had helped me wash and straighten out the tangles, and it had gotten a little messy while I'd been sleeping with it loose.

Wally wasn't in the penthouse or out on the balcony, as far as I could see. I went to the bathroom to splash some cold water on my face and gave my shoulder a look. The bruising had mostly faded, and while it was still sore, I could at least wash my own hair now. Not that I'd told Wally.

I didn't bother to dress. I had only a few more days of complete freedom and the 'tanktop and shorts' as Wally had called them, kept the relevant portions of my body covered. I was not about to wear a stitch more until I absolutely had to.

All cleaned up and ready to face the rising sun, I huffed and puffed my way up the stairs to the roof. In a day or two I'd be in good enough shape to wear my necklace once again, but I knew from experience not to rush recovery.

I checked the conference rooms outside the penthouse, but neither the office nor storeroom held the big man. I peeked my head into the storeroom and found there were more human treasures than when I'd last investigated.

Though the guests had been absent, we'd found abandoned belongings in several of the rooms, and had slowly been sorting through the collection. Stacked along one wall was the many luggage, along with selected pieces of hotel hardware that Wallace had suggested would be of little use, even if the hotel was powered. Spread out on the immense conference table and against the other wall were the piles we'd slowly been sorting the goods into. There were those things that were useful in and of themselves, that which was fit only to be scrapped for mana, and valuable items we might sell in the city. Dumped in one corner was what remained when we removed the useful, valuable, and mana rich. Much of the pile was clothing, in fact, the human luggage had contained almost nothing but clothing, but none of it would fit Wallace and little would fit myself. I'd chosen a few pieces, cleaned them with magic, and set them aside, but the rest was surplus to our needs. It was undoubtedly of high quality, and would be worth something should we bring it back to Parabuteo or Caniforma, but it wasn't quite so value-dense as say, jewellery.

Wally's office was a little tidier, and I skittered to the end of the room to leap into his big armchair. Notebooks, loose paper, pens, pencils, and a dozen shades of marker were piled in a semicircle around his workspace.

Pushed off to one side was a sheet titled "Enchanting Notes" with his scribblings on what I'd told him of the process, and right in front of the big chair was a leather notebook with brass fittings and a brass clasp. Resting lightly on its surface was a small note that read 'For V'.

I undid the clasp and flipped it open. Inside I found off-white paper with the consistent colour that I'd come to expect of human manufacture. I leafed through the notebook and found that aside from some scribbles on the last page, it was blank. I shrugged, I hadn't asked Wallace to set anything aside for me, but it had been some time since I had the time to draw, and this appeared to be the best pick of the bunch.

I took a few of the pencils and went up to the roof to see if I could track down the so-far elusive giant.

Wallace wasn't up on the roof, but peering over the edge, I could see him down on the hill below near a copse of trees. Judging from his posture, I guessed that he was writing something in a notebook, but it was hard to say at this distance.

Once The Long Night had ended and the tide had come through, the two of us had gone down to find the pickup truck still parked up next to the storm drain, none the worse for wear. It had taken a bit of doing, but we'd fashioned a rope ladder fit to bear Wallace's weight, and the two of us had gone for a walk about the area. Wally had later returned to drive stakes into the ground at various points around the perimeter of the hill, and in so doing we'd got a decent idea of just how large a safe area we had. We'd yet to properly survey the land, but according to the human, there were about sixty or seventy acres of grassland to make use of.

I thought that he might be drawing something, perhaps the trees, and I decided that was a fine idea.

Under a sunshade and beside a tall wicker screen where it would be out of the wind, was a padded lounge chair. I laid down on my stomach and set the notebook out in front of me, and I tapped the tip of the pencil to my lips, wondering what I might draw. And then I was struck by a fit of giggles as I recalled my musings about what a Wallace-owned harem would look like.

I began with Wallace himself. He had this way of sitting- lounging really -leaning back, with his arms spread across the back of the sofa, and an ankle propped up on one knee. I drew him as such, though made the sofa look a little more throne like, with a higher back and gilt up the legs and arms. Gilt rendered in charcoal or whatever these pencils were made of, but gilt all the same. I decided that Wallace didn't need a shirt, and I took great care in carving out the muscles in his chest and arms.

I bit my lip, and tapped the pencil on my chin, admiring my work. Of course, it wasn't much of a harem when there were no beautiful and lightly clad women, so I decided to add some of the girls from The Blushing Maiden.

He'd need someone to maintain order, of course, so at his right elbow, I drew my favourite of the Maiden's governesses. In a corset and tight leather pants, she had her hair in a severe bun, and held a selection of disciplinary implements ready for Wallace's use.

Tucked in close, clinging to his side, I drew two of the Maiden's bustier girls, clad only in a few scraps of fabric that covered even less than my shorts and tank top did. Two more sat at his feet, one clutching at his leg.

Standing across from him I decided would be a pair of elven mercenaries, wearing armour of an impractical design, inspired by several works of art that hung within The Blushing Maiden.

One of the mercenaries held a delicate chain that trailed from the collar of the figure kneeling between them. She was very slim, and facing Wallace, was viewed from behind. She was covered only by her hair, which flowed down her back and over her bound wrists to gather on the ground about her.

I giggled, as I titled the piece "W prepares for intercourse with V, regarding enchantment."

I knew something- likely entertaining in the extreme -had happened when Wallace joined me on the rooftop terrace. He was bright red, from the tips of his ears, right down to his neck. Even his hands were bright red, and he regarded me with some trepidation as I lay lounging with my sketchbook in my lap.

I tapped a finger against my chin, "What could you have possibly found, I wonder. Something scandalous, from the look of you, and why do you smell of fuel?"

"Um-" Wallace began haltingly, "I was siphoning fuel out of the other cars in the parking tower. But that's, uh-" he sighed and sat down heavily on the bench across from me, his head in his hands.

"Oh, this must be good," I giggled, "Come now, what is it?"

"So," he began, his voice muffled by his hands, "You remember how I wanted to experiment with enchantment, now that I have the basics?"

I frowned and furrowed my brows, "Yes, though I can't imagine where this is going."

He sighed again, and went on, "I figured communication was important, so I tried some, uh, things."

"Some things? What sort of things?"

"Things like," he winced, "A pair of linked books, where things written in one book show up in the other."

It was quiet for a moment, and I allowed myself a small smile as I opened the cover and flipped back to my first sketch, contemplating it.

"What's the matter?" I teased, "You didn't like it? I could draw some more pictures for you, if you like."

"You know, I think I'm good," he assured me, "We know it works, I think that's plenty."

"I'm surprised you came up here," I giggled, "I would have thought you'd wait to face me until you stopped being quite so red in the face."

"I tried," he grumbled, finally taking his head from his hands, "Didn't exactly work, besides, something's come up. I was fooling around with one of the other cars, thought I might be able to hotwire us something a little more modern, but I couldn't get the engine started. Immobilizer kicked in and I have no idea where even to begin with fixing it."

I shrugged, "As long as the truck still works, I don't see the trouble."

"Well, it's not 'trouble' exactly," he clarified, "Because even without the engine running, the electronics turned on," he hesitated. From experience, I guessed he was trying to decide how to explain some human concept, "So, the book you appropriated is just Communicate Plant. Brass for Communicate, and the paper for Plant mana, very simple-"

"Simple?" I asked incredulously, "Wally, that's a very complex enchantment, you could make a killing selling such things in the city. Can you imagine how useful something like your book would be in managing scavenging teams, or directing armies?"

"Well, actually I can imagine because humans have something similar, called radio. And I say the little enchantment there is simple, because compared to radio, it is. As far as I can tell, the books just work. There's no carrier wave, no concerns about signal strength, intervening obstacles, or interception. It just works."

"Carrier wave?" I frowned, "What's that?"

He spread his hands, "I only sort of know, I'm a software guy, not a hardware guy-"

"Not too soft I hope," I murmured.

"THE POINT IS," Wallace went on loudly, "The car I was working on has a radio, and on that radio, I picked up a very steady broad-spectrum signal-"

"Broad-spectrum?"

"Radio is complicated," he repeated, "Unlike the book, everyone has to talk in the same," he waved his hands vaguely, "space. If you only broadcast on one frequency, that's sort of like only talking in part of the space. The idea being, everyone finds their own part of the space, their own frequency. This signal was different, I could pick it up on every frequency the car's radio could tune in to."

"Why would anyone do that? I can understand the desire to eavesdrop on someone, but why announce your presence?"

"You wouldn't- or I guess you would," he hedged, "If you were trying to jam up their communications. Just broadcast static with a powerful enough emitter, and you could make the frequencies useless."

"Like screaming in someone's ear while they're trying to have a conversation," I suggested.

"Pretty much, but this wasn't someone trying to jam. This was a constant pulsing, once every couple of seconds. The only reason I can imagine to do that, is as a distress beacon."

"And you want to go chasing after this beacon," I realized, a little tiredly.

"Someone needs help," he said matter-of-factly, "Someone with radio."

"You think they're human?" I guessed.

"Or some other species with advanced tech, might be a bunch of elves with spaceships for all we know. But if they need help, they need help. Besides, I don't think we want Simon to swoop in and scoop up whatever goodies are near the beacon. We also want to get that thing shut off as soon as possible, the last thing we want is him poking around on our side of the mountains."

"You believe Simon has access to this radio technology?"

"I wouldn't put it past him. If he's been here a decade then that's plenty of time to find or make one-"

"Make one? I thought you said these were complex devices."

"Complex in operation. But I know the rudiments of making a simple crystal radio, it'd probably take me a week or two, but I could probably puzzle out whatever I can't remember. I think it's only reasonable to assume the same is true for Simon."

"Where is this beacon then?"

Wallace shrugged, "No idea. I've got signal strength, but no direction."

"Why then conclude that it's on this side of the mountains, or that Simon will fare any better?"

"The signal is as clear as a bell, and all that rock would shield the transmission. Either we wouldn't hear it, or it would be muffled and staticy. As for Simon, if he hasn't already got a radio in each city, just for simple comms, I bet he's going to send a couple out. Neither of us might have direction, but with a little clever math, you can triangulate where the signal is coming from, so long as you can take readings from multiple locations. That'll be easier the further away those locations are."

I nodded along, "Simon keeps properties in Parabuteo and Caniforma, it's fair to assume that if he's keeping in contact with human radio... I see, and if each city receives this same signal at a different strength. Hmm, I think I understand your concern."

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay. If you're not quite mended yet, I guess-"

"I am not staying behind!" I growled, "You can't drive the truck, and I refuse to be left behind to wring my hands while you galavant about."

"I'm all for having a galavanting partner," Wallace said hurriedly, "I just wanted to make sure you're in okay shape, you said you couldn't put your necklace back on till your shoulder was healed. I didn't want to rush you."

I gripped my wounded shoulder, squeezing it lightly, "We'd leave tomorrow?"

"Yeah," he replied softly.

"Then I should be in fit shape to go along with you," I assured him, "You said you were siphoning fuel from the other vehicles-"

"Yeah, I filled up the truck. I don't have any jerry cans to throw in the back, but the fuel tank on that thing is enormous. We should be good for a while."

I pushed myself to my feet, and glanced at the sky, "I'll help you gather-"

"Hey, just, you know, relax," he insisted, "I can still see a bit of a bruise, and you're not wearing your amulet. I'll pack our things, you just-"

I opened my mouth to speak, a biting retort at the ready, but held it back as a better idea occurred to me.

I lay back down on the bench and stretched languidly, "Maybe I'll sketch something else," I mused, smiling dreamily.

Wally beat a rapid retreat, and I smirked to myself as I watched him go.

I leaned over to the side and rested my head against the window, giving Wally space to reach in and fiddle with the radio.

It was nearly midday, not that one could tell, looking at the sky. The Father had departed around mid-morning, and shortly afterwards the bank of dark clouds, previously lurking on the horizon to the north, had rolled in. I couldn't catch the scent of rain on the air, and while the odour from the human heating device within the vehicle may have masked it, I guessed it was more a consequence of the chill that was causing Wallace's breath to fog.

And was there ever an awful lot of fog coming out of the big man. It was yet another frustration to leave me feeling guilty, him freezing in the back of the truck while I was warm and toasty at the controls. I was growing rather tired of our wild goose chase, but with Wally unwilling to complain about the cold or discomfort, I wasn't about to raise the issue while I travelled in comparative luxury.

It would be good to know whether we'd made any progress, however. He'd had me take a path away directly away from the hotel and the mountains behind it, not a straight path mind you. Instead, it was a series of wide zigzags, though he'd been shortening the width of each stretch as we drew away from the mountains.

"Anything?"

"I think so. The signal isn't- I don't know, normalized?"

"And that means what exactly?"

Wally shrugged lamely, "That might not even be the right term, point is, the signal's getting louder as we get closer."

"Then why are we zigzagging across these hills?" I insisted, "Just point me in the right direction, and I'll take us there."

"It's not a directional antenna, the zigzags are how I'm figuring out direction. It gets louder or quieter depending on distance, but the change is so gradual that it's hard to tell which way things are going. I don't have a map either, just some sketches from the top of the hotel, and I think we've already cleared the horizon in any case. Might just be the weather, but I can't see the top of our base any more."

I twisted around to look over the back of the seat, and found it hard to disagree.

It was less than an hour before flurries started to fall, and I couldn't help but smile, thinking of the ice cream Wally and I had shared.

Usually in weather like this I'd be all in a rush, getting together with the others to put together a team to gather and compact as much of the snow as possible. It wasn't quite as good as ice, and you'd not want to actually put it in the drink, but when it came to keeping drinks or food cool, ice was awfully hard to come by. Not a problem now though, not with Wally's new spell.

We might not even need to promise mana as payment to any prospective subjects. Offer chilled wine, chocolate, and ice cream, and they'd fall at my feet.

But then a frightening thought occurred to me, like an arrow through the heart.

"Wallace, we're going to run out of ice cream," I breathed.

"What?" Wally called through the window, shouting over the noise of the engine.

I brought the truck to a halt and turned around in my seat.

"Icecream, we're going to run out!"

He laughed "I mean, yeah, eventually. There's a decent amount in the freezer, but you're right, it won't last forever," he acknowledged.

"That simply will not do," I informed him.

He stared at me blankly for a moment before shrugging, "Alright, I'll figure out how to make more."

My eyes widened, and I grabbed the back of the seat with both hands, "You will?"

"Yeah, I think it's just sugar, milk, and whatever flavour you want?" he frowned, "I don't know, I'll need to experiment a bit, but I remember making ice cream in school. It was a while ago, but I remember rolling this can back and forth across the floor. I'll figure it out, I promise."

I let out a little puff of arousal pheromones, and held Wallace's gaze with quiet intensity, "I would grasp you by the collar and draw you into a passionate kiss that would leave you weak in the knees, but I believe it would be a little awkward. The window is not quite large enough."

Wallace went a little pink, though I was rewarded with a sheepish grin, "I'll take a rain-" he began.

It was as if a dozen thunderbolts had split the sky, each one following the last so closely that they seemed to blur together.

The last of the thunderbolts hadn't even finished echoing across the landscape before I found myself laying on my back beside the truck with Wallace atop me. The change seemed instantaneous, in one breath I was sitting in the cab, and the next I was on the ground, all without seeming to move through the intervening space.

It was gunfire, I realized belatedly. If Wally's people could create a pistol such as the tiny one he provided me which fired and reloaded itself as fast as one could pull the trigger, it tracked that what I heard was some similar contraption. Larger though, judging from the noise, a rifle of some sort.

A moment later it was answered by another peel of thunder, this one lacking the bass of the first. It was a chattering sort of noise, and a moment later the bassy thunder rolled again.

"Wally," I urged, patting him lightly on the chest, "I don't particularly mind you throwing me to the ground and leaping atop me, in fact, I'm a little surprised it didn't happen sooner. I'm just not sure now is the best time."

He hadn't settled his entire weight upon me. While he was pressed close, he was still holding himself off of me on hands and knees. So as not to squish me, I imagine.

He grumbled a little, and lifted himself off, moving to crouch beside the front wheel.

"They're not shooting at us," he surmised, "I think they might actually be going after each other."

I rose to a crouch and brushed myself off, "I had understood as much myself," I replied wryly.

He'd been peering over the hood of the truck, but turned back to me now, "Sorry Val. You got shot last time because I wasn't trying hard enough. This time-"

"What do you imagine you would have done last time?" I demanded, "Drape yourself across the front window? I got shot last time because a crazy elf bitch hired by a future eunuch got lucky. You have nothing to apologize for, then or now. This leaves us with a question, do we still want to seek this beacon?"

Wally grimaced and glanced back over the hood of the truck.

"Is there any way to know if we're in a safe area?" he asked finally.

"At the moment? No. I have what I need to sight the Parabueto tower and take a reading, but with the weather," I waved my hands vaguely upwards.

"I'm just worried that if we don't deal with this now, we're going to have new neighbours with firearms right in our back yard. Might be a good idea to help out the good guys, say hi, just generally make a good first impression."

"Good guys?" I repeated, "I'm not certain how we'd determine which is which. Assuming such a distinction exists."

There was another round of chattering gunfire, followed by two quick blasts of thunder before the air went quiet once again. Visibility was quickly worsening as the falling snow grew thicker, but this time I was ready and able to take a reading off my compass.

I gestured with it to Wally, "I've got a fix on them now, we can go after them, I'm just not certain you're dressed for this."

Indeed he wasn't. My jumpsuit lacked gloves or any sort of head covering, but there were ample pockets for my hands, and my hair was thick enough to warm the top of my head and tips of my ears. As for the jumpsuit itself, it insulated quite well against the cold.

Wally was not quite as well equipped, in his blue trousers and a light short-sleeved shirt. We might have prepared more thoroughly, but Wally's coat had been in the pack we'd lost on the way to the hotel, and none of the clothing we'd collected from abandoned luggage had been anywhere close to fitting the enormous human.

"I'll be fine," he assured me, "The cold doesn't bother me as much. As long as I keep my hands and face from getting frostbitten, I can deal with weather a lot worse than this."

"As you wish, we'll press on then."

We took our places once again, and I guided the truck forwards slowly. Creeping up and down the intervening hills, white with snow, though blades of verdant green grass could still be seen poking through in places, I was careful not to feed too much fuel to the engine. I was beginning to understand the way the human machine worked, and keeping what Wally called 'the revs' from getting too high seemed to keep the engine from growling too loudly.

I found a trough between two hills and followed its meandering path as lead more or less in the right direction. Hopefully sticking to the low ground would allow us to get as close as possible without being spotted, but I suspected that such considerations would soon be unnecessary. The snowflakes, big and fluffy, were falling so thick that I couldn't see more than a few dozen yards beyond the end of the hood.

The ground and sky seemed to blur together, and I found my gaze wandering as I tried to keep track of the horizon.

I caught sight of something in the distance, little more than a patch of greyish white among the field of white. I slowed and turned to the side, at first assuming it was a tree or something of the like. But as I drew nearer, the shape resolved itself into a more humanoid form.

She noticed us in the same moment I finally made sense of what I was seeing, and she froze. She stood stock-still as she stared at us, and for a moment I thought she might have been one of Simon's maids, but the uniform wasn't quite right. As if the same instructions had been given, but to a designer with different tastes. More than that, she appeared human, and like Wallace, utterly inured to the cold.

I heard the truck creak, and Wallace stepped out of the truck with his hands spread wide.

"Are you okay?" he asked gently, though he had to raise his voice to be heard, "You need a hand?"

Her reply was utterly incomprehensible, which seemed to bring Wally up short. It took only a moment to gather his wits, and he answered in what sounded like the same tongue the woman used, though even I could tell he was struggling with it.

The woman glanced back over her shoulder several times as she and Wally exchanged words, but the two seemed to come to some agreement, as she began walking towards the truck.

Wally turned back, opening his mouth as if to say something, but he stopped as something caught his eye.

He pointed it out to the woman, and though I couldn't understand the words, the urgency in his tone was plain enough. The woman began to sprint towards the truck, and I finally caught sight of what had alarmed Wally.

The horseman broke into a gallop as he spotted the girl, and Wallace quickly glanced between her and the truck. He realized, as I did, that she'd not reach it in time, and the big man began to stride forwards towards the charging horseman.

Had I not spotted him take up his weapon? No, his hands were empty, and there wasn't time to fetch his axe either. Undeterred, he broke into a run, and the set of his shoulders belied not so much confidence, as indifference at the onrushing foe.

The rider raised his weapon above his head- a rifle I realized -in a clenched fist and bellowed a challenge as he turned the horse to head straight for Wallace.

The giant answered with a roar that seemed to make the very air vibrate, and just as man and horse met, he lunged and threw his shoulder forwards. The two struck with enough force that the impact made the truck shake on its suspension, and the rider went cartwheeling over the front of his horse as the creature screamed and stumbled. Wallace roared again- still on his feet -and struck the horse. He seemed to draw the power for the blow out of the earth itself. His calves and thighs tensed as he swung his hips and shoulders around, driving an arm straight out to catch the horse just behind the jaw. The horse didn't so much as whimper as it keeled over, snowflakes thrown up in a wave as it hit the ground.

Then Wallace turned to face the rider where he sprawled on the ground, his weapon fallen to one side, and I caught sight of Wallace's grim visage.

Oh gods, he's going to kill him.

The rider seemed to come to the same realization and, in a panicked frenzy, threw himself at the discarded rifle. It wasn't to be, but as Wallace bent to retrieve the weapon, a shot rang out, and a gout of white smoke enveloped Wallace's head and shoulders. The rider had drawn a pistol, and even now held it straight out, the barrel shaking as he waited for the smoke to clear.

Wallace straightened, rifle in hand, and with blood streaming from his forehead. His expression as he regarded the rider was utterly absent of emotion, and he glanced down at the rifle's lock- a wheellock -before returning his gaze to the man on the ground.

The man dropped the pistol and raised his hands to cover his head. He screamed something, and Wallace strode forwards. I put my hand on the door handle, unsure whether to intervene, and glanced over to where the woman was huddled by the passenger side door. I could only see her from the eyes up, but that was enough. There was interest in those eyes, fixed on Wallace as they were, but little other emotion could be found in those eyes. Certainly not mercy.

The man screamed again as Wallace neared, but he was spared not a second thought as Wallace came to open the passenger side door for the woman.

She glanced at the man still huddled on the ground, and asked Wallace something, who nodded at the back of the truck. She shook her head, and gestured at his forehead. He nodded, and she clambered over the side of the truck.

"We're going to help Ch-" he hesitated, "Our friend here," he explained, "But she's not the one who set off the beacon," he passed the rifle into the cabin with me, "Prince Joffery here also isn't the guy we heard shooting earlier, so there's someone else out there who needs help. Char-" he hesitated again, "Our new friend is tag along, and she'll patch me up while we put some distance between us and Joffery."

"Wally?" I asked hesitantly.

He reeked of anger, so strongly that I was stunned that rider still breathed. So strongly, that if I didn't know Wallace quite as well, I might be terrified right now. But on the outside, there existed only utter calm.

"There are people out there that still need our help," he said simply, "I'll be okay, Val."

He gently shut the passenger side door, and joined the woman in the back of the truck. I took a furtive look through the mirror set above the windshield and gave a little start as the woman's right hand seemed to break apart. Wally seemed unconcerned as a small nozzle was selected from among the many miniature tools, which the woman used to spread some sort of material on the wound.

I let out a long breath, shook my head, and put the truck in gear. This wasn't the weirdest day I'd had, out here in the wilds, but it was early yet. Maybe we'd find something yet more curious after lunch.