Victor’s consciousness finished disintegrating into nothing, the crushing weight pressing down on my mind falling away as it did so.

I stood straight, drawing in a mighty breath of magic-infused air, reveling in the new strength that surged from my lungs, and grinned.

“We won!” I shouted. My voice sounded different in the open air, too loud and too sharp. I whirled around to face Mari.

For some reason, I hadn’t remembered that she’d taken her mask off during the psychic battle, so it was a surprise to see the bare face of a stranger staring back at me.

She was very pale, pallid even, which was to be expected from someone that never let the sun touch their skin, and her hair was little more than dark stubble. But otherwise, a very normal face. After all this time, perhaps you’d expected her to be horribly disfigured or mutated under that black visor. I know I had begun to imagine such things.

The exception was her eyes. They were large and expressive, the darkness of fatigue prominent around the lids. And, currently, the irises were glowing with golden light.

Her mind had been mirroring my elation, but when we locked eyes, she flinched as if struck, turned away from me, and hurried to pull her mask back over her face.

{Good idea,} I thought. I took one last greedy gulp of magic-laced air, then stooped to pick up my own mask. {It feels damn good, but I’m not sure it’s entirely healthy.}

Thunder trotted over to us, holding his head high.

{Though it doesn’t seem to have done the horse much harm.}

{No harm at all,} Thunder said, in our minds. {I feel excellent. Though I did perhaps get a little over-excited at first.}

The clarity of his thoughts stunned me. Far too precise for an animal. Remember, there aren’t really words in the mental realm, so it wasn’t exactly like he’d gotten more eloquent, but that’s a close approximation. If I had to give his thoughts a voice, I’d describe it as deep, confident, and mature.

The saddle and the cargo attached to it had been lost at some point. His brown coat was still unmarked and shiny, but he looked like he had gained a little bulk, and his veins bulged out in places. The eyes that had once been so deep and dark now shared the golden glow of the hounds and their masters.

Mari ran to him, and the horse dipped his head to meet her embrace.

She wrapped his head tightly in her arms. {I’m so glad you’re back, Thunder, I thought you were dead.}

{Not dead,} Thunder replied, closing his eyes. {I was just lost for a while. And then I… I woke up. I’m sorry I didn’t come back to you sooner, but I thought our friends might kill me once they saw how I’d changed.}

That had probably been the sensible call.

{I’m sorry, Thunder,} I sent. It was surreal talking to the horse like a human, but I was adapting quickly. {About what happened.}

{Hmm.} I caught just a hint of disapproval from him. {Yes, well, I understand why you did it. I was the most expendable member of the group, in your view. And I perhaps would have been perfectly fine if I hadn’t been so spirited in that moment. So apology accepted.}

{Oh,} I sent. {That’s good then.}

Bobby had been carefully making their way towards us for a while. I would have gone to them immediately, but with the magic still burning bright in me, my perception had been strong enough to assure they were safe from a distance.

“Is that Thunder?” they asked, perplexed. “What the hell?”

Thunder raised his head and whinnied in greeting.

“Yes, he’s back,” I said. “He’s basically sapient now, apparently.”

“What? That’s… that’s very interesting,” They made to move past me, their mind bright with curiosity, but I put out a hand to stop them.

“Are you okay?” I asked. “Well, actually, I can tell you’re fine because of…” I pointed to my head. “But I just wanted to, erm…”

“Make sure I knew you were worried?” They finished for me, a smile quirking up the corner of their mouth.

My face grew hot. The memory of what I’d said during that first dizzying magical high rushing back. “Well, I was. I know that must have been unpleasant for you.”

Their smile receded a little. “I wouldn’t like to repeat it, but I feel like it must have been a lot worse for you and Mari. I’m just glad everyone made it through okay.” Then, their eyes went wide, and they whipped their head around. “Wait, where’s Kross?”

“She’s fine,” I said. “Taking a nap.”

* * *

After a thorough round of note taking from Bobby, we left Mari and Thunder to their reunion and went to find Kross. She lay where I’d left her, and after a bit of a nudge, she woke up confused but unharmed.

“We won?” she asked. That complex blend of guilt and grief and other emotions still floated around her, the edge that her mind usually held missing.

“We won,” I confirmed, pulling her to her feet.

“Great.” She didn’t sound particularly happy. “Gah. Couldn’t have put a pillow under my head or anything? My neck is killing me.”

I let out a chuckle. “Didn’t have time.”

She tutted. “We need to patch up the wall though. What’s left of the Sweepers will be marching back here once they’ve had time to dry off.” She held out her hand for her weapons.

“Hold on a moment,” Bobby said, stepping between us. They had their flashlight in hand and made to grab Kross’s head.

Kross consented with a grunt, holding still for assessment.

“About the Sweepers,” Bobby said, peering into Kross’s visor. “What are we going to do with our prisoners? We can’t leave them locked up forever, but there’s not enough of us to keep an eye on them if we let them out.”

“Actually,” Kross said, “we can leave them locked up forever. It’s also not too late to just kill them all.”

Bobby stepped back and fixed her with a stern stare of disapproval.

“Kidding,” Kross said, holding up her hands, “kidding. Look, better to just say the horrible shit out loud so we know where everyone stands.”

“Well cut that out around Mari at the very least,” Bobby said, stepping back in to check Kross’s other eye. “I don’t think you’ve been a very good influence so far.”

The words hadn’t been said with any real venom, but they made Kross blink. The cloud of roiling emotion thickened, and she snapped her head away. “God that thing is bright. Burning my eyes out. I’m fine, all right? Just a bit of headache. Come on. Work to be done.”

She marched past us both, snatching her assault rifle from my hands as she went.

Bobby reached for her as if to stop her, but Kross was already barreling off down the street.

“What was that about?” they asked.

“I don’t know,” I said, then waited a moment for Kross to get a little further out of ear shot. “But I can guess.”

Bobby raised their brows at me expectantly.

I swallowed, considering whether it was really my place to share. Thinking about it made anger that wasn’t mine surge back, and then I cared a lot less about what my place was and was not.

“I was inside Metalhead’s mind. I experienced some of his memories. Kross was… a pretty terrible mother, to put it lightly. A pretty awful person in general, really. Perhaps she still is.”

“Oh,” Bobby said, guilt rising from their mind. “Well, people change, I guess. I think if she was still truly dreadful then I wouldn’t have hurt her feelings just now.”

I shook my head. “I’m not so sure she’s changed. We’ve had to talk her out of mass-murder more than once.”

“Do you think she’s the sort of person that could be talked out of something she really wanted to do?”

That gave me pause for a moment.

“No,” I said eventually. “I don’t think so.”

“Maybe she really is just joking,” Bobby said. “Or testing us.”

I looked after the tiny figure in the shaggy suit, strands of faux vegetation still shaking as she marched. She hadn’t looked back once.

“I hope you’re right,” I said. “I hope you’re right.”

* * *

The rest of that day passed in a blur.

Heff arrived at the gate, having decided the battle must have been over one way or another, and he brought with him some of the other ‘helpers’ who’d ventured out of hiding. They were under-fed, raggedly dressed, people. Their masked eyes wouldn’t meet mine for long, always sliding to the floor after a moment.

“First things first,” Bobby announced to them. “No one is obligated to stay. You’re welcome to, if you like, we can work out the details later, but just know that you’re all free now.”

There was no rousing cheer at that proclamation, just shared looks of relief.

“But,” I added, “some of your former captors might show up again very shortly, and we really could do with a functional gate by then to stop them just storming back in here.” I gestured to the jagged maw that had once been the gateway, and the blackened, twisted scrap that had been our barricade. “So any help you could give us would be greatly appreciated.”

They seemed to look to Heff for leadership. Later, I’d learn that as the least expendable slave, he’d often stuck his neck out for the rest of them. With a nod from him we all got to work, and by nightfall we’d welded together a workable gate that could have probably survived a hit from the Lawbringer.

I got to know all of them a little. None of their stories were happy ones, how could they be? I won’t list their names and traits just now in one big list. You will struggle to remember them all. Instead, I’ll give them the individual introductions they deserve when the time is right.

We kept watch in groups of six that night, two people in each machine gun nest, two on the ramparts, and made our camp close to the gate.

When it was my turn, on the dawn shift, I found Kross waiting for me on the wall. My partner was supposed to be Bobby. I had been looking forward to watching the sunrise over the city with them. But here Kross was. They’d switched, apparently, at Kross’s request.

“We got things to discuss,” was her explanation. But we sat staring out into the gray of pre-dawn in silence for half an hour before she elaborated. Her mind was still as hazy as it had been that morning, twisting and turning in on itself.

“Anyway,” she said suddenly, as if the pause had only been a few seconds, “what we need to talk about, is who’s going to lead this new little Tribe we’ve accidentally created.”

I frowned. “You think it should be you?”

She laughed at that. For the first time since I’d met her, I think it might have been a kind one. “No. No I don’t. I’ve been a leader once before. Didn’t work out. And to be honest, I really don’t like the part where the second-in-command gets all envious and stabs you in the back.”

I fixed her with a stare, daring those blues eyes to turn away. “Or shoots you in the stomach right before you throw yourself into a river?”

“Ha! I like you when you show your teeth, kid.” She started out amused, but the humor in her voice died as the realization hit her. “That’s awful specific, actually.”

“I was in your son’s mind for a while, remember?”

“Oh…” she said, very softly. “What else did you see in there?”

I spared her a full recounting. “Enough.”

“Right. Yeah, well you see now why I can’t be in charge?”

“I didn’t ever doubt that, Kross.”

“Bastard.” She laughed again, though her voice was too thick to have room for humor. “I have it coming, I suppose.”

A heavy silence began to build between us. I kept reaching for things to say, but I couldn’t get a grasp on anything.

“If you ask me to go,” she blurted, suddenly. “I’ll go.”

I looked over at her then. Arms folded against the night chill, hunched to keep low to the ramparts, I don’t think she’d every looked smaller. I steeled myself for what I had to say.

“You used to be a terrible human being, Kross, and a worse parent. The things I’ve seen, they make me sick, to be honest. I’m not saying this to hurt you. I’m saying this so you know what I mean when I ask, do you think you’ve changed? Do you think you’re ready to be part of a Tribe again?”

She took it well, her mind barely flinching, as if she’d known what was coming. “Not sure people really ever change, kid, but I know there’s things I got wrong, things I regret.”

“Is that why you helped us? Are you hoping for some sort of redemption?”

She shrugged. “Not sure I believe in that stuff. Mostly, you lot just gave me an opportunity to fix my biggest mistake, but… I don’t know. Got a soft spot for the girl now I guess, and still owe Bobby a fair bit, and you… I think you’re nuts, trying all this lovey dovey shit, but… I don’t know. Suppose I want to see what happens if you live a little longer. So, I don’t know about fixing all the horrible shit I’ve done, and I’m probably going to keep doing it sometimes, but I might as well do it for a good reason. You know?”

Perhaps if I had to judge her by her callous, clumsy, words alone, I would have taken her up on her offer and told her to leave. But I did not have to judge her on her words alone. Warmth had spread through her consciousness as she talked about us, but there was fear too, fear of rejection, fear, I thought, of being alone once more.

“I understand you,” I said. “And I think I’ll probably live longer if you’re watching out for me, so I’d like it if you kept doing that.”

“Right, okay. Erm, thanks,” she said. And that was that.

Another silence. I waited for her mind to calm a little.

“So,” I said, when I thought she was ready, “do you really think we need a leader? We’ve done fine so far.”

“It’s been me and you pushing everyone else along since we met, for the most part. When shit’s getting dangerous that’s what’s needed.”

“I suppose that’s true,” I said slowly, thinking it through.

“And since the thing with the truck, you’ve been making the better calls.”

“I guess.”

“And like I said, I don’t want to be in charge, and you certainly don’t want me in charge.”

“True.”

“So what I’m saying is, I think you’re the king of the castle now. Or the chief, or the great grand shaman, or whatever you want to call yourself.”

I didn’t want it, that was my first thought.

But really, that wasn’t true. I didn’t want to want it. I didn’t want to admit out loud that I thought maybe things would be better off if everyone just did what I said. I didn’t want to tempt myself. The Gold Robes had shown me exactly what the world would look like if someone with my gifts ended up with too much power and not enough accountability.

But, in the end, I did want that power. If someone had to have it, why not me?

I cleared my throat, then simply said, “okay then.”

“Great. You’ll still need a second-in-command of course.”

I raised a brow at that. “Are you going to get envious and stab me in the back?”

“Please,” she said. “You’d sense me coming, right? If I wanted to kill you it’d be from at least a mile away.”

I probably shouldn’t have laughed, but I did.

We sat in companionable silence then, until the sun began to rise on the far side of the bridge, projecting the long, jagged shadows of the city’s tallest buildings across the gray river.

That was when we noticed the man. He stepped out from one of the buildings on the far side and walked onto the bridge. He was waving a white rag above his head, and was unarmed, but he was still very obviously a Sweeper. The armor, the mask, the bullet-jewelry, the only thing he was missing was the typical cocksure swagger. That was gone entirely.

“Hold fire,” Kross shouted to our new recruits stationed in the machine gun nests. “No one shoot unless I do.”

The man advanced across the bridge, making steady progress over minutes of walking. I noticed him look around for the bodies that had lain along the bridge, but he found only bloodstains. We’d moved them inside for now, to keep the scavengers off them, but hadn’t found time to bury them.

When he was within easy shouting distance, the envoy stopped and stared up at the ramparts. He tried not to show it, but his mind betrayed his terror.

“Hello,” he shouted, “I want to speak to whoever’s in charge.”

A pause, before Kross cleared her throat.

“Oh, right,” I said with a start, then lent over the ramparts. “That would be me.”

“And who are you?”

“Red.”

“Red,” he tried the word out as if he hadn’t used it before. “I’m Slugger.”

“Pleased to meet you,” I said, which induced an annoyed tsk from Kross.

“Come to talk terms,” Slugger said. “You got Metalhead?”

“He’s dead.”

“You got any proof?”

I nodded to Kross, who reached down to pick up the proof we’d kept on the wall for just this occasion. Metalhead’s crumpled helmet landed with a thud in front of Slugger. He leaned down to peer at it.

“Yep,” he said, “that’ll do. So here’s how it is, we have the guns and numbers to take this place by force if we have to, but we were hoping that could be avoided.”

He was bluffing. His mind might as well have been an open book. I hadn’t often had to deal with this sort of negotiation, but now I realized how unfair my advantage was.

“What did you have in mind?” I asked.

“You still have our people?”

“We still have them.”

“Got proof?”

“Not right now.” I considered for a moment, then turned to Kross. “Get someone to bring Skeet up here, just in case.”

“Yes sir,” she said, a smile in her voice, and shuffled off to sort it out.

“Not talking without proof,” the man below said.

I leaned back over the ramparts. “Look, we could have shredded you all to ribbons when you crossed the bridge, but we gave you a chance to jump instead. If we showed mercy to a bunch of well-armed psychopaths like you and your friends, do you think we would have just executed a bunch of defenseless children?”

He was silent for a good ten seconds. When he spoke, his voice was weaker than it had been before. “I suppose not.”

I realized then, the fear he was feeling wasn’t just for himself. There was a second fear, stronger, the dread of a parent who’s lost their child. Personal fear is… sharp, jolting, like being caught out in a blizzard— it urges you to move or freezes you in place. His fear was deep, crushing, like sinking to the bottom of a lake.

“Do you have someone on the inside?” I asked. “A son? A daughter?”

“Wouldn’t tell you if I did,” he said, but his mind already had. There had been a spike of hope as I said, ‘son.’

I let out an exaggerated breath, confident in my position now. “All right Slugger, here’s my offer. We can’t have you lurking on the other side of the river waiting to ambush us, so we’re going to need your guns. We don’t have any reason to keep your old folk and children and pregnant women… and the bodies of your dead, so you can have them back in exchange. After that, I don’t see any reason our Tribes can’t be neighbors, as long as you keep a respectful distance.”

“No way,” he shouted. “Without our guns we’d be sitting ducks.”

“You still have, what? twenty? full grown adults, tough ones at that. I’d give you much better odds than most groups out there.”

“And what do we do the next time the Pain Princes, or some other gang of sickos comes this way, who’s going to chase them off? You?”

I hadn’t really thought that far ahead, but why not? We had the guns now, and the deadliest sharpshooter in the city, and the Witch of the Weir, if they decided to stay with us, and two very powerful… whatever Mari and I were. We had Heff and the universal constructor too, and the former helpers seemed eager to stay and fight for their independence.

We were a force to reckoned with.

“Yes,” I said. “We’ll be taking over your territory, and all the responsibilities that come with that.”

“And the tribute, too, I suppose?” he scoffed.

Another thing I hadn’t considered. That was a complicated one. If we were going to start protecting this part of the city from what lied beyond, we might need support from the residents. Tribute was one way to go about that, but it seemed wrong to demand it. A problem for another day, I decided.

“That’s not really your concern,” I said. “Not anymore.”

He stared up at me for a long time then, as if he had a lot to consider, as if he had any real leverage. He was reining in his fear, bracing himself, finding his courage.

“Not sure I like your offer,” he said eventually, “I have an alternative. You give us our people back, you keep the base, we keep our guns.”

“Or else? Remember what happened last time you tried to take the bridge.”

“Or else we’ll blockade our side of the river and starve you out.”

I tapped my fingers against the ramparts, keeping up the pretense of considering the offer. What I did consider, was just speaking directly into his mind, or puppeteering him around for a bit. That would really show him where he stood on the new food chain.

But, even if that hadn’t been too cruel for my tastes, I decided it would be better to keep that weapon a secret one for now.

“You’re bluffing,” I said. “You don’t have the numbers to hold us in, and even if you did, if you starve us out, who do you think is going to starve first?”

His leg had begun to jig up and down, uncontrollably. “Fine! Fine. I’ll take your deal back to the others. I’ll want proof our people are still alive when I get back.”

Once he was out of earshot, I gave the order to bring all of the prisoners up on the ramparts, and that much activity roused the rest of our camp.

I grimaced when I felt Mari’s mind draw near. Her rage had dimmed over the last twenty-four hours, the wall around her mind had crumbled, but she was still not in a state where I wanted her near the Sweepers with a loaded weapon.

{Kross told me about your deal,} she sent to me, as she ascended the ladder to the ramparts.

{How do you feel about it?} I asked, involuntarily holding my breath.

She reached the top of the ladder and turned her visor toward me. She’d cleaned it and scraped off what remained of the painted floral border, leaving only the shiny black. {I’ll live with it.}

I let that breath out. {I’m glad to hear it.}

{Not because I think it’s a good idea. Because I’m out-voted already. Kross says you’re in charge now, and Bobby will agree with you.}

Thunder’s mind interjected from somewhere below. {I would vote with you, Mari.}

I couldn’t hold back a smile.

“Does the horse get a vote now?” I asked, using my voice for privacy’s sake.

{Thank you, Thunder,} she sent back, warmly.

{You’re welcome.}

I let the brief moment of levity sit for a while, before I dragged us back to more serious talk. {What would you do, if the choice was entirely yours?}

Her mind turned inward, and I gave her the thinking time she needed.

{I don’t know,} she admitted eventually. {I still want to hurt them, but I don’t know how to do that without making everything worse or hurting someone that doesn’t deserve it.}

{I don’t think there is a way to do that.}

{Then how do I fix this?}

{I don’t know, Mari. I wish I did. Perhaps with time you’ll find your answer.}

She digested silently for a while, then came to sit by my side. I didn’t feel the need to say anything more.

{We should go for a ride, tomorrow, Mari,} sent Thunder. {That will make you happy.}

She laughed at that. A breathless giggle. I could feel the shake of her shoulders through the thin metal of the ramparts. After a while, I realized the laughter had turned to ragged sobs.

I reached out carefully, as if she might shatter at my touch, and placed a hand upon her back. We stayed like that for a while, her breathing slowing gradually, for what felt like an hour.

When the prisoners arrived, she excused herself, saying she needed to check on the horses.

Slugger returned to find his proof waiting for him, all lined up on the ramparts. When he left and returned again, he brought the entire surviving contingent of Sweepers with him, them and all their guns, which they placed in a pile before the gate.

We counted and decided they might have held back a few. When questioned, Slugger insisted that wasn’t the case, but I could tell he was lying. After some insistence, and a few threats from Kross, the Sweepers ‘remembered’ a few weapons might have been overlooked and went to retrieve them.

From the Sweepers’ stockpile, we gave each of the prisoners a few days’ worth of food, changes of clothes, spare filters, filter tents, and everything else they’d need to survive in the city.

Then we returned them to their people.

I don’t know what I’d expected from the Sweepers, but the reunion took me off guard.

Children ran into waiting arms, were swept up in tight embraces. There were cries of joy, tears spilling down cheeks. Skeet hugged a younger man that shared his slim build, perhaps his son. Not every reunion was a complete one: a single parent explaining the absence of their other half, an uncle or aunt stepping in to comfort an orphan.

Two of the children stood confused at the edge of the group, searching for a guardian that they’d never find. That little girl I’d shouted at when she’d stepped out of line, and the older boy, presumably her brother, who’d stared at me so hatefully.

The grief and rage pouring off him was all too familiar. I’d seen that exact mixture before, in Mari, and it was a recipe for only one thing: revenge.

* * *

The next few days were ones of well-earned rest.

There was still work to be done: reinforcing the walls, getting to know the people we’d freed, keeping watch, burning the dead. Compared to the week of travel, chases, and fights for our lives, however, those days were practically stress free.

Questions were raised about who wanted to stay on in Portsmith—as we’d taken to calling our new home—and who wanted to leave. All of the former helpers wanted to stay in the short-term, though some clearly had old lives they wanted to return to when they were ready. Heff declared he’d be continuing stewardship over ‘his’ universal constructor, and Kross had already made her intentions clear to stick around if I did.

I’d known what Mari’s answer would be, but I didn’t want to presume, so I asked her anyway.

{I don’t have anywhere else to go,} was her reply. {West, that had been my Tribe’s plan. Keep running west. But I don’t want to run anymore.}

{What do you want to do?} I asked.

{I want to get stronger. I want to be ready for the Gold Robes when they come. I want to fight them.}

It was the exact answer I’d expected.

{I would prefer if they never came,} I said, {but I’m also done with running away.}

{You’ll help me then? Practice like we started before.}

{Of course,} I said. {By the time they arrive we’ll each be worth ten of them.}

Brave talk, and completely baseless, but from the way her mind glowed I knew she was smiling behind her visor.

The one person I didn’t ask, was Bobby. I feared their answer too much.

They had lived a solitary life by choice before all this and had a home and an identity worth returning to. They were the Witch of the Weir, after all, and Portsmith wasn’t the Weir.

Bobby spent much of those days with Heff, no doubt hounding him with thousands of questions about the UC, whilst Kross and I attended to the more mundane problems, but every night, after the evening meal, they filled me on what they’d discovered.

“There are still a lot of experiments we want to try,” they said. “But one thing we’ve been talking about is using the constructor to build another constructor.”

We were in their tent, lounging atop bedrolls on opposite sides of the space.

It was just the two of us that evening. Kross preferred a smaller, newly looted tent away from the main camp, and Mari had taken to camping out in the stables, alone save the horses. I’d acquired a new one of my own now, but I was in no hurry to return to it for the evening. It smelled of a stranger, whereas Bobby’s tent had the same vaguely perfumed scent as… well, Bobby.

As they gesticulated animatedly, the lantern between us cast slender shadows on the canvas behind, and a glossy lock of dark hair fell into their eyes.

“Would that work?” I asked, trying not to stare.

“I don’t see why not.” They said, noticing my gaze and tucking the stray lock behind an ear. “Well, actually there’s a million reasons it might not be possible, but we should try, I think. If we have a second constructor, or even more than that, we can run riskier experiments with the spares— the sort of things the Sweepers wouldn’t let Hephaestus try.”

Bobby always seemed to use his full name, even though the rest of us had adopted Kross’ version, which Heff himself didn’t seem to mind.

“It sounds promising,” I said. “Do you need anything from the rest of us?”

“Oh, not really, though you should go see the forge yourself.” They sat up then, turning to stare down at me from across the space. “I’m sure you’re just as curious as I am, considering where you come from.”

I blushed. “I will, soon.”

The corner of their mouth turned up, and I knew they’d seen the dishonesty in my response. “Hey, sit up. Serious talk.”

I pushed myself up to face them, cross-legged.

“Are you avoiding Hephaestus?” they asked.

I dropped my gaze low and began absently fiddling with the lantern. “Why would I do that?”

“Because he brings back unpleasant memories?”

I continued to fiddle with the lantern. It was true. I’d initially been ecstatic to find another Librarian after so long, but when he asked me a question about my time in the library, or when he said something that reminded me of my teachers… it was like a stab in the stomach.

Bobby reached forward, placing a slender hand on my knee. The touch was warm, but it sent a thrill through me: a panic I wanted to rush toward rather than flee from. “Maybe this isn’t my place, but I think perhaps it would help to talk to him. If you avoid him too long it’s going to get weird, and then it’ll be even harder to break the ice.”

My thoughts were mostly on the hand on my knee, on the alien sensation of the touch of another person. “Um, yeah.”

The hand squeezed, and gave me a little shake, then withdrew. “Good.” They paused, their mind humming with gentle warmth. “He’ll need someone to pester him with questions while I’m gone.”

There it was then. It had been too much to hope for that everyone would stay. People had their own lives to get back to, and we weren’t exactly life-long friends. Still, there was a cold stone just above my diaphragm growing bigger with every breath.

“Alan?” they said.

“While,” I blurted.

“Huh?”

“Sorry, I mean, you said ‘while.’ You’re coming back?” I realized how desperate that sounded as soon as the words were out. “I mean, where are you going?”

They cocked their head, smiling as much with their eyes as with their mouth. My face grew hot.

“To collect my stuff,” they said. “There’s the things I stashed, and quite a bit to collect from the island.”

“So, you’re moving here? Of course that’s fine. That’s great! I just wasn’t sure, you know?”

“Alan, the most significant surviving artifact of the Good Times is here. Did you think I was just going to go back to sitting on my island making laxatives and painkillers?”

“I thought perhaps you liked doing that…” It sounded foolish now. “And I guess the city needs its laxatives.”

Bobby shook their head in mock disapproval. “The diets around here are too meat heavy, that’s the problem.”

I snorted at that, and with a pop that cold stone in my chest disappeared.

“Anyway,” they said. “I can do all of that here. Might need to change my title though.”

“The Witch of Portsmith doesn’t have quite the same ring to it,” I admitted.

“It’s not that bad. I’d miss the alliteration though.”

“Potion maker of…”

“No,” they cut me off. “No way.”

We both laughed then, before falling into a comfortable silence. At least, it should have been comfortable, my own thoughts ruined it for me.

I liked Bobby a lot, and it was clear they knew that, and interacting with me usually sent positive vibrations through their mind. But what was I supposed to do with that information? What did I want to do with that information?

I became conscious of the fact that I was just staring at them now. “Um, when do you leave?”

“I was thinking tomorrow.”

So soon? “You weren’t planning on going alone, were you?”

“Kross offered to protect me, she has her own gear to collect of course, but as to how I carry all the stuff back…” They grinned. “I could do with a favor from a young friend of ours.”

* * *

Like I stated all the way back in chapter one: it’s hard to tell when one story ends and another begins. I have more stories from my life worth telling, but this first volume, the tale of how I found my people amongst a ruined city and scraped my way to leadership of a small tribe, ends in just a moment.

And it ends the same way it began, with the horses.

The morning air was cool, crisp, and tinged with the earthy stench of horse manure from the nearby stables.

“Apple,” Mari said, patting the flank of a gray mare. She handed the reins to Bobby.

“She gets distracted easily,” I said, speaking Mari’s words for her. “But she’s very calm.”

“Thank you, Mari,” Bobby said, grinning and reaching up to stroke the horse’s neck.

“Don’t try to ride her though,” I added for Mari, “not yet. And keep the reins in-hand.”

The next horse had a golden-tan coat and a patch of black shaped vaguely like an—

“Arrow,” Mari named horse, before handing his reins to Kross.

Kross frowned at the creature and shot it that murder-blue glare of hers, the same one she’d fixed me with when we’d first met. It looked like was contemplating her chances of winning a fight with the animal.

“He’s old and getting slow, and he bites,” I translated.

Kross’s glare shifted to me.

“That’s what Mari said.” I did my best impression of Kross’s shrug.

{Bite,} thought Arrow, staring at the back of Kross’s head.

“Well,” Kross said. “I’ll be sure to keep an eye on him, girl.”

Mari nodded and headed back into the stables. When she returned, she had Thunder and two more horses in tow.

“That’s a lot of horses for the two of us,” Bobby pointed out.

Mari let out a little cough, and then audibly drew in a breath. She spoke, and her words were clumsy and grating, but understandable. “I’m coming with you.”

“Are you sure?” Bobby asked, though I’d already sent the same thought to Mari silently. “It might be dangerous.”

“They’re her horses,” I translated. “She only trusts herself with them. And you can carry more things this way.”

“Come now on now, Bobby,” Kross said. “Girl’s less of liability than you when it comes to danger.”

“That’s not exactly what I meant,” Bobby said. “But it’s your choice Mari. Though aren’t five horses a little too many for the three of us to manage?”

“Four,” Mari corrected.

We three adults shared a confused glance.

{This one is yours, Alan}

“That one is…” I pointed to a pure white stallion. “That one is for me.” I switched to thought. {I need to stay here, Mari.}

{I know. But this is your horse. I’m giving him to you.}

It caught me off guard. The animals meant so much to her and she was so protective of them. To offer one to me, especially after what I’d done to Thunder…

{I don’t know what to say,} I sent to her.

{You should say thank you,} Thunder suggested.

{Thank you.}

There was pulse of warmth from her. Then she reached up to pat the horse on the flank.

“White,” she said out loud.

Bobby gave a gentle snort, and Kross let out a sharp, ‘ha!’

“Really?” I asked.

“Yes,” said Mari. “Red’s horse is White.”

“People do like their straightforward names,” Bobby said.

White was a fine creature. Strong and with a glossy shine to his coat that caught the morning light. His equine mind was steady and solid.

{Hello White,} I sent to my new friend. {I’m Alan.}

{Man,} he replied simply, in acknowledgment, and raised his masked head to sniff at me. I don’t know what I’d been expecting. He was an animal, after all.

“I’ll ride out with you,” I said. “See you all off. And I suppose I need to check the Sweepers have actually cleared out too. They’ve had more than enough time.”

I rolled my shoulder to feel the reassuring weight of the assault rifle that hung there. We all carried some sort of gun at all times now, ready to run to the walls should an alarm sound.

“Look at you,” Kross said. “Tough guy now, aren’t you?”

I clambered into White’s saddle then stared down at her. I smiled, laughing to myself in anticipation of what I was about to say.

“Fuck off Kross,” I said.

She blinked, leaning back in surprise, but her mind flooded with pride.

When the others had finished laughing, our convoy set out through the gate, marching towards the rising sun, and our futures.

THE END OF BOOK 1