Asle sat in the back of the wagon, Logan beside her. It had been three days since Asle’s incident. The constant trickle of people on the road away from the city slowing their progress to a crawl.

She glanced to the people passing by their wagon. No one familiar.

“…Why do I have to do this?”

Asle’s voice sounded tired, even to herself.

“Tell me about it again.” Logan asked.

Asle repressed a sigh. Logan had made her repeat the moment she killed Beorn over and over that morning. He said it would help, but she couldn’t see how.

Then she felt Logan’s hand on her head.

“…Have you ever been afraid of anything?”

Asle nodded. She’d been afraid of a lot of things. People, bugs, guns.

“And was there anything you stopped being afraid of? Maybe after you spent a lot of time with it?”

She nodded again.

“I won’t lie to you. What you did is something that you’re going to remember for the rest of your life. But when we repeat it like this, it’ll hurt a little less each time, just like how you got over your fear. You confront it until the memory just sort of wears out.”

“… Fine.”

“Think that’s it up ahead.” Summers looked at the road that opened up in front of them, Synel had smartly slowed their progress so the guards would be able to handle the growing crowd.

Summers looked to see Asle poking her head out of the back of the wagon. She’d been doing that more often now.

“I’ll tell you if I see them, all right?”

Asle ignored Summers for a moment before nodding. So far, they’d seen no signs of Beorn’s family, it was possible they’d outpaced the caravan with this many people on the road, or something had stopped them.

Then the city came into view.

“Christ sake...”

Large walls that towered over an ocean of men and women in front of it. Summers understood then that the refugees they’d encountered on the road were only the braver, or more desperate few that had abandoned hope of entering the city.

“Stay sharp, this place is a fucking powder keg.” Nowak instinctively brushed a hand against the barrel of the gun beneath his cloak.

And he was right. Even from here Summers could see people trying to push their way towards the city. The gates were closed, guards positioned on the walls and in front of the entrance.

As they passed through the crowd, all eyes turned to them, hungry eyes.

“Cortez do I have to remind you why pulling that stunt again would be a bad idea?” Nowak turned back to the woman.

“I get it.” Cortez looked out to the sick, tired, starving horde.

Shanti towns had started up, peppering the area, leaning against the cities’ wall. There were small fights breaking out with the guards, or other refugees. And still more seemed to be heading towards the city despite everything.

There was no doubt in Summers’ mind that this would end badly.

The caravan had parked itself in a small clearing a good distance from the city, and from the people outside its gates. Guards had been set up to watch the wagons, most were relegated to making sure anyone and everyone not with the caravan stayed far away.

Asle jumped out of the back, it was clear she wasn’t doing well.

“You good?”

She wasn’t, but Summers saw her nod anyway.

Synel stepped out of her wagon, heading towards them and the “border” her guards had set up.

Summers had only studied for the better part of a month with her, and even then, only managed to memorize a few useful phrases. So, when she started shouting what he assumed were orders to the group, he wasn’t surprised to be left completely clueless.

“Asle?”

“We’re going to the gate and she wants volunteers for the guard.”

“I’m not optimistic about our chances here.” Nowak stepped down. “We might be better off moving on.”

“Don’t think we’d get a ship here, anyway. The only things left would either be out of our price range, or military. Doubly so since we’d be going into enemy territory, at least from their perspective.”

Logan had spent the better part of the trip studying the maps they’d gotten among other things. The city was near what would be their equivalent of anchorage. Given they were being attacked by enemies from the south, he doubted any merchant would want to make that trip right now, it had been a long shot before they’d seen the state of the city.

“Doesn’t change the fact she’s going to try.” Summers gestured to Synel. “Or that we need food.”

The trip to the next city, even if they avoided the army entirely, was a long one. And they simply just didn’t have enough to make it there. There was, of course, the hope that they could forage on the way, but given the luck the locals looked to be having it wasn’t something any of them wanted to bet on.

Nowak sighed.

“… Take a spear, then.”

Summers had, predictably, been one of the few people Synel approached. And he had, predictably, accepted. As they made their way through the crowd, Synel had insisted on keeping Summers close by. Whether that was sentimentality, or a healthy sense of self-preservation Summers couldn’t decide.

He’d strapped himself with as much gear as he could carry, most of which was hidden behind his cloak. Which was why he cringed as Synel moved in close to him.

“Thank you for this.” She whispered.

Summers felt a hand brush against a flashbang he was fairly sure could take out his shoulder. He was momentarily grateful of the elves’ reserved nature as she pulled away.

“It’s nothing.”

They’d made it to the front gate in no time at all, most of the elves in the crowd parting for their armed escort. It wasn’t like they had anything to take after all.

The guards, however, were very interested. Summers counted around 50 on the wall itself, and most of the eyes were on him.

No, actually everyone’s eyes were on them. While the crowd may not want anything to do with them, they were still the most entertaining thing happening nearby. And if the gate opened for them… well something told him more than a few of them would try to rush it.

Something to remind Synel of when they were done.

The woman spoke with a guard that stepped forward. Summers could only understand a few words, but the one that got a reaction was “weapons.”

Things wrapped up quickly after that, with Synel looking more upbeat than she had been.

Summers turned to head back to their wagons when he saw the flash of black metal.

About a dozen feet away a group of elves approached the gate, they were wearing the same uniform as the guards of the gate. A few looked injured, but what they held in their hands were unmistakable.

They had a shitload of guns.