In all my years, I’ve gotten more than my fair share where it comes to looks of dismay, consternation or outright horror.

  Many in the last few months even. Got plenty while getting perp walked through the streets following the kerfuffle in Brightpick, and more in days after while settling into my daddy’s quay. See them every time there are bystanders milling about when I gotta gun down some fool smugglers at the docks or criminals in the streets, and again when I bring the bodies in to New Hope the day after. Noora and Randy had similar looks when I warned the kid that it was kill or be killed, and Levi’s eyes almost popped out when I told him I knew where to find him if he crossed me. Truth is, it’s become something of a point of pride to see that look etched on a man or woman’s face, to stare them dead in the eyes and do away with all pretense while telling them what’s what.

  It’s a doggy dog world out here after all, and doggies gonna dog.

  Makes a man wonder why dogs are man’s best friend when they sound like a real savage bunch. That ain’t the point though. The point is, when I heard about them mercs over the Radio, I thought I had the perfect opportunity to show Tina what’s at stake. The badlands are safe enough so long as you careful and perceptive, especially in the winter. That’s how I was able to make it home from the mesa all by my lonesome at the tender age of 14, and how I been making this trip solo every year since, but that don’t mean there’s no risk. Which was the point I wanted to hammer home to Tina, that one wrong move, one bad decision, one poor roll of the dice, and we could find ourselves in a world of hurt, so ain’t no room for error moving forward.

  A much-needed lesson, even if her shaky confidence were to take a hit. Don’t love how hard on herself she’s been, but I needed her to know that today ain’t gonna be like yesterday. Yesterday, we were between the first and second line of watchtowers, places that are patrolled pretty often and about as safe as the Coral Desert on an average day. Not exactly hunky dory, but not much of a threat to be found either so long as you kept your head on a swivel and got moving right quick. Today though? Today, we moved past the third and final line of watchtowers to go into the badlands proper, which is Abby territory through and through.

  Them mercs found out first-hand how true that really is, and I was hoping Tina would pick up on the lesson without having to suffer through it herself. I done already told her that from here on out, we go quiet as a mouse, without risking a Silenced shot unless absolutely necessary, and only going fully loud if we got no other choice. The reason is obvious after seeing what happened; Abby don’t take kindly to being hunted, not here in their neck of the woods. No, they’ll respond in strength with numbers greater than you can imagine, because biomass is already at a premium, so reclaiming their dead to repurpose the protein, Aberrtin, and Spell Cores is a top priority. The extra sprinkle of mercs, mounts, and Aetherarms is just the cherry on top, and a trade Proggies will take any day of the week.

  That’s all I wanted to show Tina, that you don’t want to fuck around and find out while here in the badlands. What I never expected was for her to hit me with that look, a timid, teary look so full of fear and apprehension. Not fear of Abby, or concern for them mercs, but an outright lack of comprehension on how I could be so cold and cavalier about all this. How could I just leave those mercs to their fate, watch it all unfold without so much as lifting a finger to help them?

  How? Easily. That’s how. Life is cheap out here on the Frontier, and cheaper still in the badlands. Them mercs ain’t government outfits working to protect the people or strengthen the bulwark. They’re here for the pay check, plain and simple, and some mercenary outfits are barely a step or two above outlaw gangs, while others are even worse. Help them? Ha. There’s a laugh. If I had brung Tina, Chrissy, and Aunty Ray over to warn them of an imminent Abby ambush, we’d be lucky to be laughed at and sent away. Chances are they’d fire off warning shots as soon as we appeared, or worse, see us as sheep for the slaughter and let us come in close so they could take us for all we’re worth.

  That’s what Tina don’t get, because she’s still idealistic. She signed on to the Rangers to protect the Frontier, which is all fine and dandy, but she gotta learn that there are limits to what even the Rangers can do. Only a fool would go riding in to save those mercs who brung disaster down on themselves, moving across the low ground over fissures and in between ridges where Abby and other dangers could be lurking. Course they had their reasons, what with their wagons sitting so heavy and whatnot, but that’s on them. Like I told Tina, they got greedy and refused to walk away from what the Watchtower described as a ‘long and drawn-out showdown’.

  Which is a cardinal sin out here in the badlands, and I figure there’s a second group doing the same coming from the south. They been making a mess of things for days now, so they gotta have some skills since they ain’t dead. Might be pros even, a government outfit from the Mexicans, Celts, Bharathi, or possibly even an official UNASUR strike force, though you’d think they’d clue the Rangers in if it was. Could even be Qink Vanguard, but it don’t matter, because whoever it is, they ain’t gonna last long after stirring shit up in the badlands. They gonna pay the price soon enough, same as them hapless mercs we left behind us.

  As for going in to help either group? They made their bed, so I see no reason why should I go running in to save them. Hell, if the folks coming up from the south live long enough to cross my path, they’ll be lucky if I don’t shoot them dead for making things more difficult for me and mine.

  Tina don’t see things my way though, so she’s seeing me in a different light. The same light everyone else sees me in, and not a flattering one, so I won’t lie and say it don’t hurt just a bit. She done lost something today, something we both cherished more than we knew. I ain’t the hero she thought I was, the one I grew up wishing to become, and while I’ve long since come to terms with the harsh realities of the Frontier, I suppose I enjoyed Tina’s admiration more than I cared to admit.

  Josie’s too. She didn’t much care for my antics as the Firstborn, but she did so love my stories, even if she hoped those days were all behind me. Sounds awful to even think about, but I knew as much and wasn’t willing to settle down, not the way she wanted at least. Not if I could help it at least, and there are days when I wonder what would’ve happened when she found out I had no intentions of giving up my life as a gunfighter, Spellslinger, and general nuisance out on the Frontier. It was bound to happen eventually, even if I tried my best to keep things quiet until I figured out a way to get myself back to 100%. I’m almost there now too, though some might argue I done passed the mark. I would disagree, because even though my upcasted Mage Hands are real useful, and my Wildshaped Hand is stronger than my real one, neither solution is entirely ideal.

  Probably would’ve upset Josie something fierce. Not the prosthetic, the upcasted Cantrip, or the Ability, but rather my intended use for it all. If she were still here, I can’t imagine she’d be all that happy about me coming out into the badlands even, and wouldn’t have been thrilled to see me travel out here so many times in the past few months to test things out and push my limits to the max. I ain’t never got in no long and drawn-out showdown in the badlands though, no sir-ree. I’m all about the hit and run, with extra emphasis on run, grabbing whatever I can load into the wagon and getting gone right quick. Them mercs were fools to do otherwise, to load themselves to the brim and walk their damn horses out the badlands after stirring up Abby like they did, and I ain’t gonna shed no crocodile tears for them.

  Can’t come out and say that though, not with Tina looking at me like I done trampled a wally to death for funsies. So instead, I leave her to ride alongside the wagon while I watch our six by my lonesome, covering our tracks with extra care in case some hidden Ankhrav or Burrow Hulk picks up on our movements through Tremorsense, or worse, that miffed Razorscythe comes a looking.

  Tremorsense is an ability that is both mundane and magical at the same time, though I don’t know how it works beyond feeling vibrations in the ground. What I do know is that there’s no easy way to avoid it, not all the time. You can mask your presence by moving alongside some form of disturbance, like an underground river that effectively blinds Tremorsense, but rivers are few and far between round these parts. Short of sprouting wings to fly, that’s about the only solution I got, though it ain’t a big, because the best way to escape detection is to move faster than the Tremorsensing Abby chasing you. Ain’t too difficult most of the time, since Ankhravs hate daylight and move primarily through digging, which is understandably slower than Cowie’s pace. As for Burrow Hulks, though capable of walking normally above ground even in broad daylight, they’re even slower, what with how they all heavy with muscle and armoured plate, so even if they did care to give chase, we’ll lose them long before nightfall.

  Razorscythes on the other hand ain’t so easily dealt with. Though lacking Tremorsense and standing only 6ft tall in height and maybe half again in length, they got powerful bug legs capable of propelling them 40 to 50 feet in a single bound, or 12 to 15 meters. They can’t run, on account of their biology, what with their hind legs being perpendicular to its lower torso, but they got hops for days. Their camouflage Ability also makes them hard to spot from a distance, and even though it’s easy to see through it up close, especially if you have Detect Magic, that’s exactly where you don’t want to be when facing a giant Glowhopper on steroids with sharp scythes for hands.

  The worst part of it all? Razorscythes are damn fine Scouts and trackers, possessing a mix of mundane and magical Abilities that let them do the job better than any person could. That’s their role after all, to find the target and lead other Abby to them, so I’m doing everything I can to throw off the trail. From having Cowie change course every now and then while I leave false trails going off in different directions, to using Pass Without Trace Spell to remove any tracks we might leave behind. The Second Order Abjuration Spell works in a subtle manner that I don’t entirely understand, but I do know its limits. It’ll remove all physical tracks like footprints or wheel markings left recently in the Spell’s 10m radius area of effect, and even eliminate scents and Aetheric trails from active Spells like Hunter’s Mark or Locate Object. Won’t do nothing about regular signs though, like broken branches, overturned stones, or horse droppings, so I gotta handle all that myself.

  Gotta say, all that practice with Mould Earth is paying off big dividends in ways I’d never expect. Only takes me a second or three of pointing to bury a horse turd 5 feet under. Ain’t even all that unpleasant since Pass Without Trace actively eliminates the smell before it has time to reach my nose.

  By the time the sun drops low and I feel safe enough to call it for the night, I’m on my third cast of Pass Without Trace. Add in the Mage Armours I’m keeping up on myself and Tina and had to refresh 3 times a piece, and I’ve used 51 out of 60 available Aether in the tank, or round thereabouts. Makes me damn grateful that Detect Abby and Detect Magic are both Ritual Spells, making them free to keep up all the livelong day, though poor Fifi and Sunshine gotta work a little harder than the other two since I gotta stop to cast both Rituals before pushing my horse hard to catch up with Cowie and the gang.

  Still keep both Detect Spell Structures prepped and ready to cast the good old Orthodox way though, just in case of emergency. Would love to drop them, but I’d hate to come up short if my Detect Spells timed out at an inopportune moment. With only 12 Spell Structures available to me at any given time, which is up 1 from 11 back in Pleasant Dunes, I’m still hard pressed to fit everything I need into my Spell list. The four Spells I done named take up a full third of my Spells, while Fireball, Force Barrier, and Misty Step are never coming off until I got something higher Order to replace them with. Hunter’s Mark is on there too, even though I still don’t use it much, but it was a staple in my daddy’s kit for a reason, I just don’t know what that reason is. I replaced Entangle with Grease since I got the grenades, and also threw in Web because you can never have too many ways to keep Abby out of arm’s reach seeing how most of their arms end in scythes, talons, or some other sharp and pointed unpleasantness. Rounding out the Spell list, I got Expeditious Retreat so I can run quick as a bunny should the need arise, and to top it all off, Settle in Shadows so I can hide after I done run far enough.

  See, the idea is that if things get bad, I can distract Abby and lead them all away while Tina, Chrissy, and Aunty Ray go invisible and ride off into the sunset. I done the math. Aunty Ray can cover three targets with the Spell, Chrissy two, and Tina can handle herself, so that’s 6 targets total. Three people and three mounts, with Cowie hopefully making the cut.

  No offense to Ivory, Sunshine, Winnie, or Fifi of course. They just ain’t been around long enough to feel like they part of the family like Cowie and Old Tux.

  The long and short is, I’d love to have room for 30 plus Spell Structures like Tina, even if I can’t switch most out. Would love to throw Conjure Weapon, Conjure Armour, and Spiritual Weapon into the mix, because I been practicing and made some marked improvements these last few months. Would help pave the way forward to using the Third Order Spell Spirit Guardians in the near future, setting me up nicely as an armoured Vanguard with a nasty melee weapon and area of effect Spell that can distinguish between friend and foe. Never much cared for being a Vanguard until recently, but I’ve been thinking about taking it up more and more of late. Marcus wouldn’t have had to go down after the Proggie if there’d been a second proper Vanguard on the team, as him and Captain Jung were just filling in. Plus, with Tina dead set on the role, I could take it on too so I could be there to support her if she ever needs it.

  To do this, I’d have to get my hands on the Spell Formula for Spiritual Guardians first. Sergeant Begaye would be the obvious choice, as I done seen him use it under dark in Pleasant Dunes to Conjure up a trio of feather-armoured, tomahawk wielding Braves that circled around him and hacked any and all Abby who approached into kibble. Doubt he’d be so forthcoming with the Formula though, not like he was with Spiritual Weapon. Back then, I was still the golden boy, the Firstborn with hopes of working alongside the Rangers soon enough, which was why they was so happy to have me join in on the training. It’s clear that won’t ever happen though, and neither Captain Jung nor Sergeant Begaye have said word one to me since Pleasant Dunes, and I’m talking about from the moment we left town.

  Be much easier to look at the Spell Formulas available to me and work up a kit from those. Got plenty of those between my mama’s notes, my daddy’s Spellbook, and Mr. Mueller’s library, so much that I don’t know where to start since I’m lacking the foundation to know what’s what.

  Inner conflict aside, that means I got a whole lot of choices moving forward, even if it takes me 6 months to figure out how to prep a Spell without a Mentor to guide me. Maybe longer, since I got a whole lot more going on these days as opposed to my innocent and carefree youth, but either way, the best day to start would’ve been yesterday, except I’m still struggling on what direction to go in. I could be a Striker like my mama no doubt intended for herself, what with how she memorized the Spell Formulas for Fireball, Lightning Beam, and Frost Nova before she even came to the Frontier and prepped a single Cantrip. She also had the Formulas for Call Lightning, a staple from the Métis Pathfinder playbook, as well as Surging Tide which sends a massive wave of Water barreling out from the caster’s hands. Doesn’t do as much damage as Fireball or Lightning Beam, but it’ll push everything in front of you away and onto their asses, which is pretty damn useful in a pinch.

  Could also aim to be a Controller, what with how fond I am of Entangle, Grease, and Web. Throw in Moonbeam or Flaming Cloud, then pick up something like big like Stinking Cloud or Erupting Earth and I’d be set Spell wise. Technique and tactics would be hit and miss, but I could learn as I go, I guess. Don’t have any of those Spell Formulas, but I could get most fairly easily, and the others I could trade for since they ain’t as restricted as something like Fireball.

  Course, all this is putting the cart before the horse. I’m looking to branch out into secondary roles before having mastered my first. Don’t get it twisted. I’m a good Scout. Better than good even, but that don’t mean there’s no room for improvement. Learning Arcane Sight would be good start, or Detect Tracks and Nondetection, all Third Order Divination Spells that I’ll need to learn in order to be a Ranger-level Scout. My daddy also kept Psionic Blast in his pocket, which hits everything in a big cone up to 10 meters in front of you with a big burst of Mental damage. Kills cleanly without the mess, and anyone who survives is liable to topple over like a puppet with their strings cut because their brain done stopped working for a bit.

  Real choice Spell, but I still like Fireball more, if only because it’s easier to aim a 12m diameter sphere from up to 50 metres away.

  Vanguard, Striker, and Controller. I gotta pick 2 out of the 3 to choose as my own, and I’m not sure which way to go. Follow in my daddy’s footsteps as a Controller and Striker? Not sure I got the chops, especially since I don’t work well in a team, which is essential for both roles. Then again, the same could be said of Vanguard, so I’m pretty much up shit’s creek without a paddle, since I got no team to work with or training to acquire. Not unless I pack up and go join the Pathfinders, or maybe even the Protectorate or Chevaliers. Can’t say I much like the thought of working for the Métis, British, or French though, and it’ll be a cold day in hell before I sign on with the Templars. Especially now that I know Uncle Rigsby thinks I’m too lacking in moral fibre to make the cut.

  Bad enough to have to swallow my pride and sign on with a government or ecclesiastical organization; I don’t think my ego would survive if I tried and didn’t make the cut. Which ain’t as outlandish as it sounds. I got the skills, but I also got a real attitude problem and issues with authority that military outfits tend to frown on.

  All this talk of roles and training would’ve left me sweating a few months back, but these days, it’s more of a passing fancy. Ain’t all that concerned about it anymore, because there’s two roles I want more than anything else, only they done both been denied me. I’m talking about being a husband and a father to Josie and our baby, one who I ain’t ever gonna get a chance to meet before I find out if Heaven is for realsies. Back then, I was too focused on getting myself back to 100% to really appreciate what I had going for me, and now it’s too late for regrets. Don’t stop me from having them, because I’d give anything just to hold Josie in my arms again, to see her smile and replace the memory of our last moments together with something better.

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  Anything really. Every time I close my eyes, I see her standing there in streets with an Ice Blade in her back, and me too far away to do anything but watch her die. Don’t matter how many times I replay it in memory, I can’t help but believe that she died before I reached her side. Hurt and afraid, and me too far away to hold or comfort her as she passes. Ain’t worth much of anything, the presence of my company at the moment of her death, and yet it leaves my chest hollow and aching every time I think about it. That’s when I lost our child too, dead before he or she even had a proper heartbeat, but that don’t make the loss any less real.

  Does make it all the more important I cherish what little I have left, but I done fucked that up too by scaring Tina something fierce. Been too busy covering our tracks to have time to make up for it, but I can only put things off for so long. Soon as I’m sure as can be that there ain’t a Razorscythe lurking nearby, an Ankhrav tunneling towards us, or a Burrow Hulk locked onto our position, I pick out a campsite up top of a ridge with clear sightlines in all directions and cover enough to hide the wagon. While Aunty Ray gets to warming dinner on the hotplate, I go the extra mile to secure our position and start laying Alarms out from two hundred plus metres away. With a Ritual rather than the actual Spell, but that’s what makes it so useful. Most of my Divination Spells are Rituals too, which makes it easy to get a whole lot of use out of them, and Mr. Mueller’s books outlined a whole bunch of Rituals I been meaning to learn and make use of.

  Like Protection Against Enchantment, which was what they cast during their morning get togethers so they wouldn’t be bothered by the Mindspire. Made more effective since their Ritual was tailor made to use against the Mindspire, tuning in to its exact signal to better block it out, but still useful all the same.

  Either way, I find I get a whole lot of mileage out of Rituals, and Alarm is one of them. Still costs a strand of silver wire for each Ritual casting, wire which is sublimated into the Spell and therefore can’t be recovered, but it’s a small price to pay for a good night’s rest. Less so when you lay double digit Alarms down to guard from different angles of approach, though if it wasn’t for the fact that we still got some 10 plus nights to go and only a finite amount of silver wire, I might well have laid enough Alarms to cover 360 degrees around our campsite. It’ll have to do though, because even if I laid Alarms closer to camp and covered all approaches, it ain’t all that useful to know Abby is right on top of you mere seconds before they attack.

  Dinner proves to be more hardtack dipped in a thin stew, one I don’t entirely approve of considering the smell it would’ve given off while cooking. Before I can say anything though, Aunty Ray hits me with a look like she knows what I’m thinking and says, “Prestidigitation is good for more than cleaning teeth and colouring hair. Can create scents too, which last for an hour, and combined with liberal application of Gust, you can mask the faint smell of cooking and disperse it before it can settle in. That’s how Marcus did it during our first trip through here, and we wasn’t attacked until we made it to the Divide.”

  Lot’s changed since then though. They didn’t build three lines of watchtowers in the badlands proper. No, they built them on wide, rolling plains with plenty of grass, hedges, bushes, and even trees, but Abby done stripped the land clean over the last 18 years. All the same, I don’t say nothing, just hold my hands up in silent surrender and eat my dinner in peace while quietly casting Pass Without Trace using the last 9 Aether left in the tank.

  Pretty sure Aunty Ray noticed all the same, as she got that same trick as Tina and Chrissy, what with being able to see the flows of Aether and whatnot. Doesn’t say anything though, and even acts like she unaware, so we don’t gotta get into an argument over nothing.

  Even with the Spell, I ain’t all that reassured, since the scent of food do tend to draw Abby like flies to honey. Soon as I’m done eating, I head over to see how Cowie’s doing, while using yet another Ritual I don’t often use because it’s not all that useful. Beast Sense is what it’s called, and it allows me to take a willing target like Cowie and perceive things through his senses. It’s a strange one, because as soon as it hits, it subjects me to all sorts of phantom sensations, including my own fingers scratching away at his chin. Which is real nice, because he don’t got fingers of his own and it’s been all day since someone scratched at his itches. Helps me find all the right spots he wants scratched too, but it’s his sense of smell I’m more interested in. He ain’t no wulf or bloodhound, yet another dog that sounds fearsome as all hell, but he got a sharper sense of smell than any human in existence, so if there’s traces of dinner still lurking about, he ought to be able to smell it.

  In theory at least. Thing is, the Spell don’t replace my senses with Cowies; it lets me perceive his senses while retaining control of mine. Which is difficult to parse, and doubly so considering I’m looking for traces of something I done just ate. Got no idea how Kacey uses Inari’s senses to track in a similar fashion, but considering she knew enough to know I didn’t do nothing with Noora in Pleasant Dunes, she seems like she’s got the trick down pat.

  All in all, after many minutes of sifting through Cowie’s sniffs, I’m not sure if he can smell the stew lingering in the air, or if I can still taste it. I do find a tick burrowed in his fur and a stone in his hoof which I done missed. Patting his flanks to apologize after setting things right, I make a note to use the Second Order Divination Ritual more often in the future, if only to make sure my animals are hale and healthy as can be, and maybe figure out why Frowny is always frowning. Means training the horses to accept the Spell though, which ain’t as easy as it sounds, since they don’t know what’s happening and gotta just trust me when I sling Spells at them. I don’t even bother trying tonight, as I’m exhausted from so many hours of nervous travel and spending every last drop in the Aether tank for the day.

  Leaves my head feeling heavier than a mountain, and my thoughts light as a feather. Ain’t time to sleep just yet though, because regardless of the dangers, Chrissy still thinks of this as a camping trip, and I don’t want to disappoint her. To that end, I set up the Silence Artifact on its tripod and turn both dials to their maximum range, creating a bubble measuring 12 meters in diametre from which sound cannot escape. A hollow bubble as it were, though I suppose all bubbles are hollow. What I mean is that inside the 12 metres, you can hear everything hunky dory, but once you step outside it, you can’t hear nothing that’s going on inside. The perfect encapsulated barrier for Chrissy to play music in, and her pale violet eyes go wide with wonder the second I actuate the Artifact and the bubble springs into place. Don’t know what it is that she sees, because even with Detect Magic going, all I get is a faint shimmer of Aetheric glow that outlines the Spell’s area of effect, one Chrissy can easily make out with the naked eye and proceeds to stand at the very boundary.

  With her head outside of the bubble and hands inside, she claps and watches the sound crash against the invisible barrier and dissipates into nothingness. Takes great delight in the show too, her eyes all bright and bubbly in stark contrast to how cold and empty they usually are when she retreats inwards to her thoughts. A glance at Tina shows that she’s just as interested, but is hanging back because she’s not in the mood or doesn’t want to seem childish and whimsical. Been working hard to seem all mature and put together, but still pouts like a little girl and stomps her feet when real heated, so I smile to see it and figure she just needs a little extra push.

  So I grab the instruments out of the wagon and bring them into the bubble for the girls to play with. As an added safety measure, I break out my wand and a vial of Holy Water to conduct a Ritual to summon my Simple Servant, the blobby little fella who can’t do much of anything well. He sure can wobble though, and I get him to do a little jiggly dance as he picks up a drumstick that they brought along, though thankfully without a drum to go with it. Feeling fancy, I have it give the drumstick a slow twirl before having him strike the pot Aunty Ray just used to cook dinner in. “Y’all play some music and sing some songs,” I say, smiling to see Tina giggle at the Simple Servant’s silly antics. “I’ll keep watch, but if the blobby fella there sounds the alarm, then that means something’s up and y’all need to get safe. Got it?”

  “Drum,” Chrissy says, already back inside the bubble and crouched next to the Simple Servant.

  “Yeah,” I say, and at her behest, I have it strike the pot a second time. “That means trouble, code red even, okay?”

  “No. Drum.” There are times when it’s hard to understand what Chrissy wants, and this here is one of them. While I’m standing there looking at Chrissy and trying to parse her thoughts, she gets to clapping a beat and looks at me expectantly. “Drum,” she says once again, still clapping out a simple but punchy beat that makes her look so driven and energetic.

  “She wants Blobby to play along,” Tina supplies, grabbing the banjo to play the opening to ‘’, by Guns and Roses, albeit with a folksy bluegrass twist. Gets Cowie real excited as Chrissy nods like a kickaw pecking grains. Her clapping fits perfectly with Tina’s playing, so I have Blobby grab a second drumstick and smack out the rhythm on that. Ain’t much harder that thinking the thoughts, which gets me to wondering why Automatons can’t be just as snappy and intuitive. Something I’ll have to consider later on, because Chrissy and Tina both light up to hear it and really get into the groove as the former picks up the fiddle to pluck out an almost frantic accompaniment while the latter breaks out into lyrical song. Instantly the mood sweeps us all up and takes us away, because the simple addition of two sticks smacking together in rhythm adds an extra layer to the music that compels you to smile.

  The lyrics hit me hard in light of this last year, which is why I stand and listen for far longer than I should considering the circumstances. Can’t have all four of us stuck in the Silence with no clue what’s going on outside of it though, so when Tina hits the chorus and belts out the song’s title, I feel a tear come to my eye and head out to stand watch. Aunty Ray is two steps ahead of me though, already outside of the Silence and moving out to patrol with her Silenced 3-Line in hand, but she glances back when she hears my footsteps despite me making next to no sound at all.

  “You head on back in and take a rest,” she says, hitting me with a look that is both stern and doting at the same time. “Can see you clearly on your last legs, so no sense bein’ stubborn now. I done been sittin’ all day in the wagon and could use the time to stretch my legs, so you keep the girl’s company.” Flourishing her fingers while already holding the components in hand, she casts Dancing Light and sends the glowing orb floating back to float a foot in front of my head. “Steady is all good, blinking means caution or communication, and if it goes out, then that there is a code red. You got me?”

  “I got you,” I reply, because there ain’t no arguing with Aunty Ray, not when she’s got that tone going. Her method is also better, because Dancing Light is a Concentration Spell, which she’ll likely automatically drop anyways if she’s surprised or injured, meaning she won’t have to make an effort to let us know what’s what. She flashes a bright smile over her shoulder before heading off on patrol, and I keep an eye on her as best I can as I retreat into the bubble of Silence. Tina’s still singing her heart out and having a ball as she does, but she lights up even brighter when she sees me pick up the harmonica and join in. Gotta use my Wildshape Hand Ability to do it, but it lasts 5 hours, which is long enough for me to play some tunes and take first watch if I have to without burning the second use, meaning worst case scenario, I go to sleep as the Ability ends with another use still available.

  It’s a valuable resource being used just to play some tunes, and not all that well either since I’m out of practice. Still, I’m happy to do it, and not just to cheer Tina and Chrissy up. I’m enjoying myself too, not just the playing, but keeping Blobby on beat and fleshing out his repertoire of percussive hits. All the while, the music lifts my spirits and fills me with good cheer despite the heavy mood that strikes every now and then when a chord or lyric hits me hard. Said it before and I’ll say it again, there’s magic in music, and won’t no one ever tell me different. Here we sit, me, Tina, and Chrissy, smack dab in the badlands and surrounded by danger on all sides, with me all full of dark thoughts and Tina harbouring all manner of doubts, but when the music plays, don’t none of it matter any more, not for the moment at least.

  Like the song lyrics say, she’s got a smile that it seems to me, reminds me of childhood memories.

  Brings us back to simpler times it does, back when we’d sing and play songs to pass the time on those dark and scary nights. I’d be staring out the window wondering if and when my daddy was comin’ home, or Tina would be doing the same and thinking about her daddy too, and Aunty Ray would call us down for milk and cookies before having us put on a performance. We got a whole slew of bluegrass style songs in our pocket, from the classics like ‘’ and ‘’ to 80’s hits we arranged ourselves with help from Aunty Ray. ‘ is always a big hit, and one that hits me hard as the first two, but for reasons besides Josie. Thankfully, Tina picks up on my spiralling mood and switches things up with one of my favourites that’s a little cheerier, namely ‘’ by Creedence Clearwater Revival, one she don’t sing and makes me take the lead.

  I ain’t no Songbird like her, and won’t no one ever pay to hear me sing, but it ain’t always about sounding the very best. Sometimes, you just gotta belt out some tunes and get the emotions up out of your belly and off of your chest.

  When we finish Fortunate Son, we take a beat to just sit there, smile, and rest, all giddy and happy from all the fun we’re having. Chrissy’s already clapping out the rhythm to the next song, so eager and excited in a way I haven’t seen in years now, but she’s content to play around with Blobby for a little bit as I cuddle Cowie and consider what to say to Tina.

  Can’t put it all together in my head, so I do something stupid and try to talk it out. “Look,” I begin, keeping my voice down so as not to distract Chrissy and involve her in our talk. “I know you got into the business to help and protect folks, so it hurt you to sit idle and watch those mercs walk into trouble. You a bright and optimistic sort, so you surely thinkin’ we could’ve made a difference and saved them, and maybe you right. Maybe they would’ve listened and stepped carefully, been ready for them Abby lying in wait and fought them off without injury, then come over to say ‘thank you kindly’.” Grimacing to even say it, I heave a sigh and shake my head. “World needs more folks like you, kind and generous to a fault, but the problem is, we don’t got many left because the world don’t treat them kindly. Good people get taken advantage of by less scrupulous sorts, like how Errol almost got taken in by them bandits on the Highway.”

  Would’ve gotten taken in and killed if I hadn’t been there. Almost got me killed in the process, and Cowie too, but he didn’t say word one of thanks or apology, now did he? Just got all sour at being chewed out because he thought he could’ve saved them fools who wanted nothing more than to put a Bolt between his eyes and drag his corpse over to the side of the road.

  Tina might well have fallen for it too, even though she’s a more careful sort. That’s why I worry so much about her, and why I won’t let her come ride out with me. She’s better off with the Rangers, because the Rangers look out for their own, and there ain’t many who care to mess with them since it’s pretty much committing suicide by proxy. A single Ranger is vulnerable, can be killed by some random thug with a gun who comes at them from behind, but the Rangers as a whole will hit back hard, and won’t leave nothing standing until they avenge their man.

  Only reason they ain’t more effective at enforcing the law is because they’re busy holding Abby back on all fronts. The third line of watchtowers is staffed solely by Rangers, while the second got a mix and the first is all civies, because the Rangers don’t got enough manpower otherwise. Me, I’m hoping Tina gets a cushy gig like that, camped up in a tower for two weeks at a time with routine patrols clearing pedipalp networks in between deployments. Don’t get much easier than that in the Rangers, but she’s dead set on Delving because she knows that’s my intent, to go down under dark and hunt Abby and Proggies alike.

  For my own benefit mostly. Proggies corpses are like money printers once you set them up to Condense Aether into crystal, a process that’ll only get more profitable with time and tech as Aetheric Concentration levels rise and we get more gadgets and gizmos to streamline the process. With the Rangers, they take it all and give you a base rate for your work, whereas a freelancer gets a cut of the prize, or the whole thing if they done hunted it themselves. That’s the American Dream the Feds sold to the First Wave, one wherein they got rich off land and Aether both by farming crops and Proggies alike.

  Course, the Aberration threat was more advanced than they thought, so we’ve been playing catch up with the Proggies for the last 18 years. We’ve only recently overtaken them with our tech, enabling us to put up a good fight through sheer massed Aetherarms fire, but Proggies ain’t ready to roll over quite yet. Instead, they’re escalating on all fronts with specialized siege Abby like them Doomspitters cropping up, or advanced threats such as the Deviant Matías and the still unconfirmed reports of a Synapse in the Deadlands.

  And yet, despite all the danger Abby and Proggies represent, I will still always fear my fellow man more. That’s the nature of an unknown threat, the uncertainty that makes things so much worse, a lesson I learned in full myself just recently. The folks of New Hope were willing to accept the Mafia lurking among them, because they were a known quality. Me though? I gone and took the Mafia out, and while some might cheer that as a job well done, more live in fear of what I might do next. That’s all it took to have me Exiled, the mere concern that I might snap and kill someone in cold blood. A wulf pack, people can tolerate, but a rabid dog? That, they gotta put down.

  Which is why I ain’t really fought the Exile, even though Mr. Tillman believes we got a good case. I understand where they coming from, and even though I ain’t no rabid dog, I got too much pride to live where I ain’t wanted, so I left without putting up a fight.

  Having lapsed into silence for too long, I snap back to my talk with Tina, who’s sittin’ quiet as a mouse who’s stuck in her thoughts. “You get it though, right?” I ask, hoping she says yes and means it, because I need her to understand. “If we wasn’t in the badlands, and I came across some folks about to be hit by Abby, I’d ride over in a heartbeat to help out.”

  “I know,” she says, giving me a look before adding, “You done went riding towards the gunshots to help Clayton get his people back, and you stayed out to fight Abby when they showed up on Carter’s dock. It’s just…” Resting her chin on her arms which are propped up on one knee, she looks all sombre and introspective as she heaves a sigh. “I get it,” she says, in reply to my earlier question. “You had good reason for doin’ what you did, and it all makes perfect sense, it’s just… I dunno. I just thought you would do different, you know? Go ridin’ in to save the day no matter the odds, and come out the other side with new friends and a pretty profit to boot.”

  Splitting a take with strangers is never simple or easy, especially right after a big fight when tempers are hot and bodies exhausted. That’s why Ranger protocol is to claim it all if they had a hand in it, because time spent haggling is time wasted. I don’t say as much though, just sit in silence and ponder why it bothers me so much to see Tina so down and out about all this. It didn’t sit well with her, watching those merc walk into trouble without so much as lifting a finger, but now I see it hurt her more to learn I ain’t the hero she thought I was.

  And it hurts me too, because for the first time in a long while, I realize I still want to be that hero she thought I was. I just stopped wanting it because that ain’t me. My daddy dedicated his life to keep the Frontier safe, and what’d he get for it? A pauper’s grave and a letter saying he wasn’t no Ranger, even though he gave them the best years of his life and sacrificed so much in service to their cause.

  And even if they didn’t disavow him, I couldn’t do that. Be like him, all selfless and honourable. No, I work to get paid, and I get paid better working alone. Simple is as simple does, and while I’ll help out where I can, I won’t dedicate my life to it like other men have, better men than me. Men like my daddy, Marcus, Uncle Rigsby, and the Marshal, heroes one and all, but me? I ain’t no hero, and I’ll never be the Firstborn they all thought I’d be, the hero of a generation to inspire so many after me.

  Nah, I’m just another Yellow Devil, except unlike my daddy, I ain’t misunderstood. The people of New Hope know exactly what I am, and they was right to Exile me from their walls, because sooner or later, I’ll cross a line, slide down them slippery slopes just like the Sheriff expects, and end up no better than any other criminal. Can’t help myself really, because some laws are so stupid I can’t help but break them where I can, like taxes, gun regulations, and Spell restrictions to name a few.

  Don’t know what to say to Tina though, how to explain to her that it ain’t that I given up on being a hero, but that being a hero ain’t all it’s cut out to be. She’s still all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed looking to follow in the footsteps of the Marshal, whereas I’ve long since seen past the veil and know how it ain’t all sunshine and roses on the other side. Most folks ain’t worth saving, so I’m just here to protect me and mine, and while I so desperately want her to do the same, I’m not sure if it’s because I think she’s safer and better off that way, or because my pride couldn’t handle it if she steps in to fill the shoes I done left behind.

  I mean, she was top boot and the model recruit, the shining example they held up to all the new boots that are about to graduate in a few week and the top prospect for most Strike Teams looking to bring on new blood. Forget if; she done already taken up the mantle I dropped long before Pleasant Dunes, and I should be proud of her for it. I’m just sour to see her living the dream I once wanted for myself, but I wouldn’t be any sort of brother if I kept her down just because of that.

  So I open my mouth to say some words of encouragement, tell her that what works for me might not be true for her, except it all freezes in my throat as the Dancing Light extinguishes right before my eyes.

  “Code Red,” I say, jumping to my feet and grabbing my Nanfoodle before kicking over the Silence Artifact to end its effect right quick. “Get Chrissy safe, then come back me up.” With Cowie at my side, I activate the Longstrider Spell in my boot and double time it out to where I last saw Aunty Ray, my heart pounding in fear and body flush with relief too, because that’s another difficult conversation I done gotten out of.

  Unlike Noora however, Tina’s sticking around, meaning we gotta talk at some point, but I’ll cross that bridge when I have to. For now, duty calls, and I will answer gladly, because I’ll take a fight against Abby with no Aether left in the tank over a difficult conversation any day of the week. Says something about me, and nothing flattering considering the woman who done raised me might well be in danger, but that’s just how it is.

  I only hope I get there in time, else this moment here will be yet another lifelong regret, one I won’t ever let myself live down.