Creeeak.

Asle climbed up into wagon, the old wood protesting as she moved to the back. The fact Synel had given them one of the more rickety of the wagons had annoyed her at first, but now she realized it was probably the only one a trader had been willing to sell.

She’d spend most of the night after the battle trying to convince Beorn and Erne to stay, but Asle knew they wouldn’t. Worse their parents wouldn’t hear her out, even if they understood the danger of travelling on the road, it was no place for kids. Adults may be able to outrun soldiers, but children couldn’t. Asle knew that well enough firsthand. They would be safer with her and her friends, at least until the city.

She’d managed to sneak them a few rations with Mr. Nowak’s permission. Somehow the illusion that she was going against her friends’ wishes put them at ease.

Asle understood their distrust, but she didn’t have to like it.

After a few more minutes Asle closed her eyes, doing her best to quiet her thoughts, and let sleep take her.

…

Creeeak.

Asle stirred for just a moment at the noise, she’d assumed the sound was one of the others climbing onto the wagon. Then she felt the hand on her thigh.

“…What?”

She felt a weight sliding off her leg, her hand snapped to the half-drawn pistol at her side. Another hand covered her mouth before she could scream. Asle had no time to think, she operated on instinct that had been drilled into her, pulling the weapon in close, then squeezing the trigger.

“…Bang.” Asle finished the story, her legs curled up towards her head.

The others had moved off to handle the scene while Summers tried to make sense of what happened. As far as he could tell, Beorn had tried to take her gun, and Asle had reacted just as they had trained her to.

Why he’d done it, Summers couldn’t say. Maybe the kid thought that if they were going off on their own, he’d need the protection.

“Anything?” Summers called over to Nowak. His sergeant was hunched over Beorn outside, trying to get a pulse. They’d done everything they could to staunch the bleeding from his chest, but after fifteen minutes of trying, and failing, to get a response out of him, it was clear the kid was gone.

“No.” Nowak replied.

Summers had already written the kid off, so Nowak’s flat response didn’t surprise him. He noticed Asle clench her knees even tighter. And the shouting from outside was getting louder.

“Stay here, all right?”

Asle nodded.

Summers jumped out of the wagon. He saw Cortez holding back an increasingly agitated Eirik. Beorn’s father looked down at the corpse, such naked grief on his face that Summers stopped in his tracks.

“Let him by, Cortez.” Nowak called over. He’d done what he could for the kid, but that ultimately amounted to nothing.

Cortez nodded for a moment before she stepped away from the older man, he rushed over to cradle the boy’s body.

Summers moved back to the wagon. Camp was waking up now, in part due to what was happening. He saw Synel ordering several guards to pull stakes and get started heading out. They’d be leaving soon. Something told him the family wouldn’t be following.

“Think they’ll make it?” Nowak asked Summers.

They’d taken a post against the back of the wagon, blocking off access to Asle just in case anyone got curious, the last thing she needed right now was visitors. Summers had explained to the family what happened as best he could, they’d left soon after. From the way Eirik looked at him… well he was just glad Asle wasn’t around. He couldn’t blame the guy but that was the last thing the girl needed.

“We’re two days away and the roads seem pretty safe, I think they have a decent shot.” Summers paused, thinking how to phrase his next question. “Who was watching the wagon?”

“We’re not gonna start throwing around blame.” Nowak’s voice had an edge. “I gave Asle the okay to give the family some rations. Cortez probably thought the kid was heading in to thank her. And she’s not taking it well either.”

“…Right, sorry.”

A silence descended over them. Then Summers watched as a guard rushed by their wagon, heading to Synel’s. He recognized the guard as one of the scouts Synel had set to check the road after their last run in.

Summers stood on the wagon, trying to see further ahead.

In the distance, a large group walked towards them, there had to be about fifty figures. There wasn’t a wagon, it just looked like a small horde.

“What the hell?”

Summers watched as men and women with haunted eyes looked hungrily at their wagon. They stood at the side of the road just watching the caravan as it passed. Some yelled in words Summers couldn’t completely decipher. Most looked sick, starving, injured. It was clear they were refugees, and whatever Beorn’s family had encountered wasn’t an isolated incident.

"Jesus..."

“Don’t suppose we have enough food to help?” Cortez was looking at the sheer amount of people in front of them.

“No.” Nowak spoke with finality. “We help one we could end up with a riot on our hands. At worse, we might make whoever we start giving handouts to a target.”

“And we need to think about ourselves. I’m not liking the odds we resupply in the city.” Logan added.

“What?” Cortez looked at Logan, confused.

“He’s right.” Summers agreed. “They’re starving and walking a road that leads away from the city. Do the math on that.”

“I’d say we have a month left on our own if we ration it. No idea if that’ll get us to safety.” Nowak looked to Cortez. She wasn’t happy.

Summers watched a family tend to a wounded man, they looked to be changing his bandages. They eyed him as he passed. Summers only caught a glimpse of the man’s back as they left, but he’d seen enough bullet wounds in his lifetime to recognize them even at a glance.

“Hide your guns.” Summers called over.

The others listened, catching on to his line of thinking and tucking their rifles behind the cloaks they wore on their backs. They’d already experienced one group that could recognize an M4 at a glance, they were lucky they hadn’t made themselves a target already.

Cortez just sat, silently observing the groups pass by. Most were adults, but he saw a few families as well. Some with children even younger than Asle.

Some of the kids were alone.

“Nope. Fuck this.” Cortez declared, she hopped down at approached the kids with a hunk of bread she must have snatched from the back of the wagon.

As soon as they saw it other refugees started forward.

“Cortez –“ Nowak started.

“Back me up here, Summers.” Cortez called back.

Summers looked to Nowak who gestured for him to get on with it.

Fine, guess they were doing this.

“Take that from them and you die.” He called over to the older men that were walking forward. They stopped, staring up at Summers. He just stared back, by the time they were out of sight the bread was well and truly gone.

He’d hoped that move of theirs didn’t end up hurting the kids in the long run.