The air grew heavier as the convoy approached the Brownstone Canyon. Snow rode at the forefront, her longshooter resting across her saddle, her gaze locked on the shadowy cliffs that towered above them. The canyon walls were jagged and menacing, streaked with rust-red stains that might have been iron—or something worse. The whispers of wind through the narrow pass carried an eerie sound, like distant screams, and every hoofbeat seemed to echo louder than it should.
Then they saw the totems.
Snow reined her horse to a halt, raising one hand to signal the convoy to stop. At first, she thought the shapes lining the entrance were just misshapen trees, twisted and blackened by time. But as she drew closer, the truth revealed itself.
They were not trees.
Corpses—strangled and maimed, their throats slit and bellies torn open—hung from tall poles driven into the cracked earth. Their skin was dried to leather, their eyes long since pecked out by carrion birds, but the horror of their final moments lingered in the way their limbs twisted unnaturally. Their innards were gone, replaced by serrated stones and tangled weeds, stuffed into their hollowed torsos like some cruel parody of life.
Snow's stomach churned, but her expression didn't falter. "Totems," she muttered, her voice carrying just enough for the others to hear. "We're in Ferals territory now."
The convoy behind her ground to a halt. A wave of murmurs rippled through the Niners and Easterners alike as they stared at the grisly display. Even Bricks, who was rarely shaken, let out a low whistle.
"This is bad," he said, dismounting to get a closer look.
"No kidding," Snow replied, her voice tight. "Keep everyone moving. If we linger, they'll know we're afraid."
Flint, riding near the center of the convoy, spurred his horse forward until he was level with Bricks. "You didn't mention this," he said, his voice sharp with accusation.
Bricks shrugged, though his usual bravado seemed forced. "You wanted a shortcut. This is the price."
Snow ignored their bickering, her focus shifting to the cliffs above. The canyon walls seemed alive with shadows, and every gust of wind sent loose stones tumbling down in an unnerving cascade. She couldn't see the Ferals, but she knew they were there. Watching. Waiting.
The convoy pressed on, the wagons creaking as they rolled over uneven ground. The Niners' scavengers and the Easterners' guards alike kept their weapons at the ready, their eyes darting to every shadow, every flicker of movement. The totems lined the path for miles, each one more grotesque than the last.
"Do they have to make it so bloody theatrical?" muttered Dug, one of the Niners, his knuckles white as he gripped his longshooter.
"They want us scared," Snow replied curtly, her gaze never leaving the cliffs. "And it's working. Don't give them the satisfaction."
The hours dragged on, the convoy moving at a snail's pace as the tension mounted. By the time they stopped to rest for the night, the sun was beginning to dip below the canyon walls, casting the narrow pass into deep shadow.
Snow had just dismounted to check the perimeter when it happened.
A flash of movement—a blur of something darting between the rocks. Dug saw it first. His longshooter snapped up, and his finger twitched on the trigger.
The crack of the gunshot echoed like a thunderclap, shattering the fragile silence.
"What the hell, Dug?!" Bricks barked, whirling around to face him.
"I saw something!" Dug stammered, his eyes wide and panicked. "It was right there, I swear!"
But there was no time to berate him further. The gunshot had been like a signal, and the Ferals answered.
They rose from the ground itself, bursting forth from hidden burrows dug into the canyon floor. Dirt and rocks flew as they emerged, their bodies adorned with bones, furs, and skulls of either man or beasts. Their faces were painted with streaks of red and white, giving them a nightmarish, almost otherworldly appearance.
The convoy erupted into chaos.
"Ferals!" someone screamed, and the air filled with the sound of shouting, the clatter of weapons, and the guttural howls of their attackers.
Snow spun around, her longshooter snapping to her shoulder. She fired once, dropping a Feral who had been charging toward one of the wagons with a stone axe raised high. The creature crumpled to the ground, but two more took its place, yipping and growling like rabid dogs.
"They're everywhere!" Flint shouted, his voice cutting through the din. He drew a slugger from his belt and fired blindly into the swarm of bodies.
The Ferals were relentless. They moved with an animalistic grace, leaping over rocks and wagons, their crude weapons flashing in the firelight. They howled and screeched, their voices a cacophony that seemed designed to unnerve their prey.
Snow ducked behind a wagon, reloading her longshooter with shaking hands. A Feral lunged at her from the side, but she brought the butt of her weapon up just in time, smashing it into the creature's face. It stumbled back, snarling, before another shot from her longshooter ended its life.
"Rain!" she shouted, her voice hoarse. "Where's Rain?!"
"I'm here!" came the reply, and Snow turned to see Rain crouched behind one of the wagons, clutching a data drive in trembling hands. She looked terrified but unhurt.
"Stay down!" Snow ordered, firing another shot at a Feral who had gotten too close.
The convoy was holding its ground, but barely. The Niners and Easterners fought side by side, their differences forgotten in the face of a common enemy. But for every Feral they killed, it seemed like two more took its place.
Bricks let out a roar of fury as he swung a makeshift club, smashing a Feral's head like a melon. Flint, meanwhile, barked orders to his guards, his slugger barking with every squeeze of the trigger.
"We need to move!" Snow yelled, her voice cutting through the chaos. "We can't hold them off forever!"
Bricks nodded grimly. "Fall back to the wagons! Form a circle!"
The convoy began to retreat, the Niners and Easterners forming a defensive line around the wagons. The Ferals pressed their attack, but the makeshift barricade held, if only just.
Snow found herself beside Rain, her longshooter still hot in her hands. "You okay?" she asked, glancing down at the girl.
Rain nodded, though her eyes were wide with fear. "What do they want?"
Snow didn't answer. She knew exactly what the Ferals wanted. Blood. And they weren't going to stop until they got it.
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The canyon exploded into chaos. The Ferals came at them in a tide, a shrieking, snarling mass of flesh and bone. They moved as one, rushing in groups like wolves, their movements as erratic as their howls were deafening. The echoes of their guttural cries bounced off the canyon walls, making it impossible to tell where they were coming from. It was as if the canyon itself had turned against the convoy, amplifying every sound until it seemed as though the Ferals were everywhere at once.
And then the Chasers came.
The beasts tore down the cliffs, sinewy and monstrous, their flesh warped by generations of exposure to the poisoned lands. Their jaws were too large for their skulls, their teeth jagged and uneven, and their glowing, hungry eyes burned like coals. They lunged with terrifying speed, their guttural growls blending with the Ferals' cries to create a nightmarish cacophony.
One of the Chasers leaped onto a guard, its claws sinking into his chest. The man screamed as the beast mauled him, blood spraying in dark arcs against the orange glow of the campfires. Another Chaser tore into a Niner, its jaws clamping down on his leg and dragging him to the ground, where two more Ferals descended on him like vultures.
"Hold your lines!" Flint shouted, his voice hoarse from the effort. He swung his sword at a charging Feral, the blade glinting as it slashed through the air. "Don't let them break us!"
But the lines were already breaking.
The Niners, untrained and panicked, fired wildly into the darkness, their shots ricocheting off the canyon walls or hitting nothing at all. The Easterners fared little better; though disciplined, they were overwhelmed by the sheer ferocity of the Ferals. The melee turned into a bloody, frenzied brawl, with blades clashing, bones snapping, and screams echoing through the canyon.
Snow stood near the center of the convoy, her longshooter held steady despite the chaos around her. Her sharp eyes picked out targets with precision, and each shot dropped a Feral or a Chaser with deadly accuracy. She moved with purpose, reloading and firing in a rhythm, her breathing calm and measured even as the world around her fell apart.
"Snow!" Bricks bellowed from the front, his voice cutting through the din. He swung his massive club in wide arcs, keeping the Ferals at bay. "We're losing ground! We can't—"
A Chaser pounced on him, its claws raking across his arm. He let out a roar of pain, slamming the beast to the ground with his club, but the wound bled freely, weakening him.
Flint, meanwhile, was frantically trying to keep his guards organized, shouting orders that were lost in the chaos. He slashed at a Feral that lunged at him, the creature's stone axe missing his head by inches.
And Dug? Dug was running.
The coward shoved past his fellow Niners, his longshooter clutched to his chest as he bolted for the nearest wagon. He scrambled inside, panting and trembling, only to find Rain huddled there, clutching the data drive to her chest.
"Get out!" he snapped, his voice high and panicked.
Rain blinked at him, confused. "What—?"
"I said get out!" Dug shoved her toward the wagon's open rear, his eyes darting nervously toward the approaching Ferals. "You can die in my place!"
Rain stumbled out of the wagon, hitting the ground hard. She looked up just in time to see a Feral charging toward her, its stone dagger raised high. Her heart leaped into her throat, and she froze, the world narrowing to the snarling face of her attacker.
A gunshot rang out.
The Feral's head snapped back, a hole punched clean through its forehead. It crumpled to the ground, lifeless. Rain turned to see Snow standing a few feet away, her longshooter still aimed at where the Feral had been.
"Stay down!" Snow barked, her voice sharp and commanding.
Rain nodded mutely, crawling toward the safety of another wagon. Snow turned her attention back to the fight, firing another shot that took down a Chaser mid-leap. But as she went to reload, she heard the low, guttural growl behind her.
She barely had time to react before the Chaser was on her.
The beast slammed into her, knocking her to the ground. Its jaws snapped inches from her face, hot breath reeking of blood and rot. Snow thrust her longshooter between its jaws, the metal barrel holding it at bay as it snarled and thrashed above her. Its claws raked at her sides, tearing through her coat and grazing her skin.
"Damn it!" she hissed, straining to keep the beast's jaws away from her throat.
Rain, crouched behind a wagon, watched in horror as Snow struggled beneath the Chaser. Her hands trembled, and her breath came in short, panicked gasps. She wanted to look away, to cover her ears and pretend this wasn't happening, but she couldn't. Snow was going to die if she didn't do something.
Her eyes darted around, searching for anything she could use as a weapon. Her hands closed around a jagged piece of scrap metal lying in the dirt. It wasn't much, but it was sharp enough to cut.
She stood, her legs shaking beneath her, and took a hesitant step toward the Chaser.
"Rain, no!" Snow shouted, her voice strained as she continued to hold the beast at bay.
But Rain didn't stop. She raised the scrap metal above her head and brought it down with all the strength she could muster. The makeshift blade sank into the Chaser's side, and the beast let out a yelp of pain, its body convulsing.
Rain stabbed again, and again, tears streaming down her face as she screamed with each thrust. The Chaser finally collapsed, its body twitching once before going still.
Snow shoved the beast off her, her chest heaving as she scrambled to her feet. She turned to Rain, who stood frozen, the bloody scrap metal still clutched in her hands.
"Are you hurt?" Snow demanded, grabbing Rain by the shoulders and looking her over.
Rain shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "No... I'm fine."
"Good." Snow pulled her into a brief, fierce hug before letting go. "Stay close to me. We're not done yet."
The battle raged on, the canyon a hellscape of blood and fire. Rain, however, seems to realize something, her eyes brimmed with determination.
She wants to help, and she certainly knows how to help, as a Knower.