The sun was barely exiting over the desert horizon, the blue sky slowly falling into shades of violet. Several buggies and vehicles had been circled around a small encampment to form a barrier against any potential trouble, whether it be Honno or raiders. Other raiders, to be precise. Honno were unfortunately not the only threat that roamed the Barrens after all.

The crackling flames of a large bonfire were probably easy to spot from a distance, but the drunken shouting and laughing seemed to note that the residents weren’t worried about it. They had a perimeter, they had sober guards, they had firearms. The Fangs, as the group called themselves, were a sizable clan. With nearly thirty members, most smaller bands definitely didn’t want to try and brush shoulders with them. The Fangs weren’t too cutthroat, but they had made a name for themselves in the area. They were mostly content with stealing supplies and the occasional beat down of a rival gang.

Secluded from the fire and the drunken rowdiness was a lonely truck made from patchwork scrap and held together by shoddy welds. A young woman sat on the bed of it, a dingy mess of blankets and cushions stuffed into a pile behind her. She reached into the breast pocket of her sleeveless leather jacket, pulling out a crumpled box of cigarettes that she had been lucky enough to find in the last raid. Most of them were broken or snapped apart, but as long as she had a filter she could make do. She held the last intact one in her lips for a moment, lighting a match and holding it to the tip as the cherry began to glow brightly. A relaxed sigh escaped from her, tendrils of smoke spewing from her mouth.

‘Why am I even here with these idiots?’ she thought to herself. Sure, she had done her fair share of stealing and robbing. Money, food, water. Hell, she even took lives if it was a benefit to her. She had left her old home specifically because of these reasons, tired of being someone else’s pawn and tool. Despite this, she still found herself offering services and forming alliances with people very similar to the ones she was running from.

Lost in thought, she slowly traced the line that was freshly tattooed along her left arm, feeling the spiral that coiled along the length of it. She had asked one of the other girls to do it for her, a rare case of her putting herself out there. It had meant to mark a new beginning and dream of hers, but so far she hadn’t accomplished much.

“Serratia!” a gruff voice interrupted her daydreaming.

Her amber eyes flicked in the direction of the sound, the only movement the girl made as a tall man walked up to her with an obvious chip on his shoulder. The girl grunted slightly in annoyance, waiting as long as she absolutely could before acknowledging him. “What do you want, Horn?” She asked in a long, drawn-out sigh. She didn’t even turn to look at him, instead letting Horn walk the extra four or five steps so that he was in front of her.

Horn wasn’t someone that anyone else in the Fangs spoke to so dismissively. His face was scarred, constantly scowling, and he constantly seemed to be talking twice as loud as anyone else. It was probably due to the patch of discolored flesh where his left ear used to be. He took good care of his people, but he had a knack for being a bit brutish when it came to how he oversaw them. Most everyone had been socked in the jaw at least once or twice. That said, he didn’t dare try to swing on Serratia, and it wasn’t because she was a woman.

“Vlad says you’ve been skimming from the top again,” he nearly shouted at her. Horn seemed restless, pacing back and forth while he admonished her. “Do you think I’m dumb, or just wouldn’t notice? Or maybe both?”

Serratia followed him with her eyes, plucking her tobacco from her mouth for a moment before crossing her dangling ankles. She was surprisingly relaxed for someone who was on the bad side of a guy who once tried Honno meat. “Yeah,” she answered every question at once. “But I also didn’t think you’d care about me taking a bit of bedding.”

Horn’s nostrils seemed to flare at the sheer lack of worry in her voice, his arms crossing over his bare chest as he let out a slow growl. He thrived on control, and this wasn’t the first time that Serratia had completely ignored his authority. “Look at me. You see all of this?” he asked, nodding his head in the direction of the fire. “We divvy out goods based on contribution. That’s how things work around here. You? I haven’t seen you so much as lift a dainty little finger since you joined us.”

‘I’ve got a little finger for you…’ Serratia thought to herself, smirking a bit to her own inner joke. Working with a bunch of low-life thieves and murderers wasn’t where she envisioned her life. Her previous life had left her rather spoiled, even in the rougher areas of the Barrens. It wasn’t as if she needed the help of the Fangs to survive. Human interaction was important, even if most of the other raiders typically gave her a wide berth.

“Go do somethin’. I don’t wanna see you back at this camp until you’ve pulled your weight. You know what to look for,” Horn demanded, pointing his finger at her. “Or else we’re gonna have a problem-”

“Alright! I get it!” Serratia snapped back at him, sliding off the broken tailgate. She walked past Horn, pulling her dark hair into a flat ponytail against the back of her head, clipping it so that the pale orange fringe pointed to the sky. “I’ll get you something. Get off my damn back.”

Horn seemed a little taken aback, silently blinking at the girl as she began striding away from the camp. Serratia had been tough to wrangle ever since joining them, but he never argued with the few results she did bring. She was mouthy, lazy, and obstinate; but damn if she wasn’t amazing at what she did. With resources in the Barrens slowly dwindling, it was good to have powerful allies.

Once she was a good enough distance from the raider leader, Serratia paused. “You wouldn’t be able to have any ‘problems’ with me even if you had twice as many people,” she said loud enough for even the half-deaf man to hear. She looked over her shoulder one last time, flashing Horn a tooth-filled grin. “So don’t kid yourself.”

Horn shot her back a scowl, but didn’t respond. After all, she was right.