Last night the sky fell.

He had been trying to sleep.

Tired of having to keep dodging the idiot brigade who were still trying to recruit him, the waggon master who kept trying to recruit him for grunt work, and the red-haired thief who…well, just freaked him out on account of her uncanny ability to hide from Her Majesty, he did what his instincts always drove him to do. He shut himself off from the world.

In contradiction with his earlier reservations at angering his fellow…waggoneers…expeditioners…trainers, no…fellow travellers, he bought out most of the market’s available supply of preserves, something that was sure to piss people off with the inevitable increase in prices.

It was expensive, but it would be a one time thing; it had to be. If he had relied on multiple trips or the market’s carrier it would have presented others with plenty of opportunities to slip poison in with his food. A one time purchase was far from being able to protect him from such an event, but with him doing the packing and Her Majesty keeping lookout, it was the best he could hope for. He had some minor resistance to such things, of course, but that was meaningless as he knew of venoms back on earth that could kill thousands with a single drop. He could only imagine what kind of magical horrors they could have here.

The entire load being no more than a shopping cart’s worth of goods; An earth shopping cart, as far as he knew the locals had yet to implement that small bit of convenience. He would have bought more if he had the strength to carry them, the effort taking what he already had back to his place already being enough of a strain to upgrade his measly 4 points of strength to a whopping 5. Just a few more and he would finally be considered average.

Carefully rationed out, the preserves would last a few months. All he needed was for them to last long enough for him to hide in his waggon-truck till the end of the month and waggon masters had them leave this place.

There was still the possibility of the thieves’ network running beyond this village, but hopefully, the death of Mr. Thug and the disruption to local power structure would halt or slow down any attempts to coordinate with any other groups.

And for the last few days, he had been waiting. Waiting and hiding.

Generally sleeping to pass the time.

It was not a perfect solution as he still had to leave from time to time to answer the call of nature, but with his sleep cycle messed up, he would head out at night, with Her Majesty’s eyes to guide him and keep watch, such trips were as stealthy as could be. Enough so that he finally learned the hiding skill.

It was nearly a week later that it happened; He had been lying in bed, bored out of his mind from having nothing to do, no books to read, no plans to make. Half in a daze as the unrelenting heat had kept him from full night’s…or rather a full day’s sleep.

The ‘banging’ started sometime around midnight, each boom sound like cannon fire.

They were coming from the south.

When he looked out the window, a shower of shooting stars raced across the sky; as each strand of light hit the earth…planet, he would only hear the sound of its impact after a few seconds.

They were small. Each streak a hairline of colour against the black of the night sky. But he had no doubt that if they were to hit him, he and his new home would be utterly obliterated.

He knew he could not outrun them, or even predict where they were going to hit, so, instead of stressing out over his current situation, he just gave up and accepted it. A sentiment that surprised him, as he had never accepted any other situation with at least a little resistance, it was also a sentiment that the rest of the expedition seemed to differ on as he heard yelling from the camp, mage light came into being as people began racing back and forth. To do what, he could not guess.

He decided to climb up to the roof with a rope made from shadow stuff.

This late at night, it would disintegrate within minutes. But he could always make another. His only real difficulty being in having to climb while carrying his jar. That and barely having enough strength to raise himself up.

As he sat down, he briefly stared back at the turmoil behind him. The glow of mage-lights flaring into existence, the various colours forming a kaleidoscope of wonder; a stark contrast to the one-note streaks descending from above.

The camp and town were in upheaval, making it an unlikely event that anyone would bother him now. Still, he was not a moron, he had Her Majesty keep her eyes on the surroundings as he watched the celestial display.

As he watched the two shows, the dance of magic and the full comet salute, he took an occasional sip from his jar. It had once held preserves, but was now empty except for a pinkish liquid. It was by a fortunate accident and a little bit of boredom that he had discovered that it was slightly alcoholic.

Some type of hooch, he had guessed. weak but sweet. Just strong enough to create a buzz in his bones and calm him down.

He had accepted that he could do nothing about what was happening around him, but thinking something and doing it were two different things and since the sound of that first bang had bounced around his cabin, his body had already been buzzing with stress.

The meteor strike grabbed his full attention as one streak hit the side of a mountain.

So far away, yet even in the dark, he could see it all clearly. The explosion of rock, the rising dust cloud, everything.

Another series of bangs rang out, weaker, but closer. It took him a moment and an accompanying yell to realise it was someone down below.

He asked Her Majesty why she was not keeping watch like he asked her to. The feelings she sent back indicating that she had been; she had watched the woman down below approach, walk towards the vehicle, and begin banging on the door.

He would have been angry, but Her Majesty felt that there was no danger from his late-night visitor, something he was inclined to believe; with her attributes maxed out, she was a far better judge of things than he was.

It was what’s her name, the woman who’s summoned beetle had pulled his truck-waggon here from the city.

Goodie looked over the side and called down.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“Open the fucking door,” she screamed up.

With a sigh and one last sip, Goodie made his way below, not forgetting to take his jar with him.

After opening the door to question the woman, he was interrupted as he was bowled over; She had pushed her way past him.

Wha…Hey?!

“Shush, we don’t have time,” she said as she made her way to the front of his truck-waggon.

She sat herself down in the central driving seat, the compartment diverging from how an Earth vehicle would be arranged despite being made to resemble a truck’s cabin. Having no right or left steering wheel, only a small opening in the centre where the reigns would be slid through, the seating would, of course, have to match.

She unceremoniously dumped herself in the middle seat.

The guys who had made his vehicle had installed a large, leather-covered seat for the driver in the middle of the compartment. More a small bench, really, with two smaller seats beside it, with an even smaller gap between them all to allow for people to get by. They each had a seatbelt, not the fancy self-adjusting kind like the ones you would find in any car back on earth, more like the air-plane kind, the ones that were a fixed size, that you needed a stewardess to give you a special attachment to lengthen, that would probably cut you in half if you actually needed them.

The woman beside him, waved her hand and in front of his truck-waggon, a moment later, he saw a golden light come into being, moving and writhing with the semblance of life. Far quicker than any of his summons had formed, most likely due to her far greater level and class focus.

As the light began fading, he saw the same gargantuan beetle that had first pulled him here, come into being. It crawled over and hooked itself to the truck-waggon with greater precision and intelligence than he would have attributed to such a beast.

The truck jerked, nearly sending Goodie to the floor as the beetle began moving. Crawling forward with that weird, wobbly walk that insects used.

“What’s the rush?” he asked. It was not like they could outrun a meteorite.

“Smart boys up front say that those small dust clouds are gonna spread and choke this place, so we gotta get moving.”

He just nodded.

“Wait, why’d you rush here? You can control your beetle from anywhere, can’t you?” he asked.

He knew his class had some advantages when it came to dealing with range, but he did not think it would be superior to a pure summoner with a far greater level than his.

“Yeah, well, I ain’t staying out in that shit. And you need me to pull this thing. So here we are.” She told him.

Fair enough, he thought as he took a seat beside her.

“Hooch?”, he asked, offering her a sip from his jar.

It was probably not the best idea to giver alcohol while she was driving, but a night like this, he would not deny her that small bit of relief.

They sat in silence as the truck-waggon rolled joined the convoy of waggons heading away from the town. Her Majesty, whom he had wait on the roof, could see it stretch into the distance. The straight line that it should have formed, waved and curled as the waggons ahead avoided the various obstacles the littered their path.

A feeling of giddiness passed through his link with Her Majesty, at first, he thought her amused at the sight of the giant winding snake formed from the glow of the various spells, but a moment later he realised that her joy was due to the strengthening effect of the light upon her.

More lights, mage-light and others, were coming into being. The waggon masters had warned them to refrain from using spells, for fear of upsetting the locals, and not having enough mana should something truly dangerous occur. It was only to be used for emergencies; they had said.

This situation probably fit the bill.

An assessment that was proven correct when a meteorite shattered mid-air, raining down on several waggons, reducing them to splinters of wood and bone.

Like a line of ants, the waggon train adapted and manoeuvred round the wreckage with little to no delay in its progression to the east. He could drivers covering their faces in cloth as the dust cloud spread, choking the air and blocking the light until someone, most likely an elementalist, summoned a gust of wind to drive it north. He wondered if it had been one of Gail’s lot.

As he and the woman next him pass those same remains, neither dared rubberneck, it was the rare waggon that did not carry a family and most had multiple children on board. Neither of them needed to see that.

It was not long before they had emptied his jar.