The Niners' camp sprawled just beyond Greybranch, a mess of patched tents, scavenged tarps, and flickering campfires. Even in the shadow of the city's spires, it looked rough and feral, its occupants sitting in small clusters, sharpening weapons or counting their loot like hyenas guarding a fresh kill. Snow and Rain trudged into the camp, their boots crunching over the gravel-strewn ground. The sour smell of unwashed bodies and old fuel lingered in the air, and Snow couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of discomfort being back among her people.
"Snow," came a sharp voice from the largest tent. Bricks' tent. The leader of the Niners didn't call you unless he had something to say—and it was never pleasant.
"Go pack," Snow murmured to Rain, keeping her voice low.
Rain nodded, clutching her pack tightly. "I'll see you in a bit."
Snow watched her go, her jaw tight, before turning and making her way to Bricks. She could feel the eyes of the other Niners following her, a mix of suspicion and curiosity. She'd been gone longer than she should have, and no doubt, they were already gossiping.
Bricks was waiting for her in the dim confines of his tent, sitting on a battered old chair that looked like it had been ripped out of a Once-World vehicle. His arms were crossed over his massive chest, his expression a mix of irritation and impatience.
"Where the hell have you been?" he barked as soon as she stepped inside.
Snow didn't flinch. She met his glare with her own, her tone calm but clipped. "Meeting with a mutual friend."
Bricks narrowed his eyes. "Flint?"
She didn't answer, but the silence was confirmation enough. Bricks let out a sharp exhale, his lips curling into a sneer. "You're getting cozy with toppers now? What's next, Snow? You planning to ditch us and move up there with them?"
"Maybe they're better company," Snow muttered under her breath, just loud enough for him to hear.
Bricks leaned forward, his massive frame looming. "Watch your tongue."
Snow held her ground, her voice steady. "What do you want, Bricks?"
He leaned back, his chair creaking under his weight. "Got a tip," he said, his tone shifting to something more businesslike. "Wrecked tanker ship down in the Southern Reaches. Word is, it's still holding black oil. Could be a goldmine if we hit it before anyone else."
"Black oil?" Snow repeated. "And you're dragging the whole crew for a rumor?"
Bricks' eyes flashed. "This is how we live, Snow. We take risks, and we survive. Or would you rather we sit on our hands and rot?"
Snow crossed her arms. "We're sitting on the doorstep of Greybranch. There's work there. Honest work. We could settle down, make something of ourselves."
The suggestion made Bricks' lip curl like she'd suggested they join a knitting circle. "Settle down?" he sneered. "You really have gone soft. What, that little Knower rubbing off on you? Or is it the toppers feeding you ideas?"
A murmur rippled through the camp outside, audible even through the tent's canvas walls. Snow could feel the shift in the air, the Niners whispering to each other, questioning her loyalty.
Bricks cut through the noise with a bark of laughter. "You forget who you are, Snow. You're a Niner. We scavenge, we fight, and we take what we need. That's how we've lived, and that's how we'll keep living. You'd do well to remember that."
Snow's fists clenched at her sides, but she said nothing. There was no arguing with Bricks when he was like this. She turned on her heel and strode out of the tent, her jaw tight with frustration.
She found Rain in the smaller, shabbier corner of the camp where the two of them had been sleeping. At first, she thought Rain wasn't there—until she spotted the girl curled up on the ground, her arms wrapped around her knees, her face buried against them.
"Rain?" Snow called, her voice softening as she approached.
Rain looked up, and Snow's stomach twisted at the sight of her. There was a fresh bruise blossoming on her cheek, and her eyes were red-rimmed, tears still streaking her face.
"What happened?" Snow demanded, dropping to her knees beside her.
Rain sniffled, her voice barely above a whisper. "They… they took everything."
Snow's eyes narrowed. "Who?"
"Dug and his lot," Rain said, her voice breaking. "They said… they said I should give up my things, that they could sell them in Greybranch for a good price. I tried to stop them, but…" She trailed off, her hand brushing against her bruised cheek. "They said it was the least I could do for the group. That I didn't deserve to keep any of it."
Snow's blood boiled. She wrapped an arm around Rain, pulling her close. "I'll get your things back," she said, her voice low and dangerous.
Rain shook her head, fresh tears spilling down her face. "Why? Why do they hate me so much? I've only ever tried to help them."
Snow didn't have an answer. She held Rain for a moment longer, her mind racing with anger and purpose. Then she stood, her expression like a stormcloud.
"Stay here," she said.
"Snow, don't—"
"I said stay here," Snow repeated, her voice hard. She grabbed her longshooter and slung it over her shoulder, her strides purposeful as she left Rain behind
————————————————————————————————————————————
The Niners' campfire blazed high against the blackened sky, throwing shadows across the faces of those gathered around it. Dug sat front and center, leaning back against a crate with a cocky smirk plastered across his face. Around him, his cronies passed around a battered flask of something sharp-smelling and foul. The air was thick with laughter and the acrid scent of burning wood.
"I'm telling you," Dug said, tipping the flask back for a long swig before passing it on, "that junk's gonna make us a killing in Greybranch. The toppers love that kind of crap—books, notes, all that Knower stuff. Useless to us, but to them? It's worth its weight in metal."
One of his lackeys snorted. "What do you reckon we'll get? Enough for a barrel of real booze?"
"Maybe two," Dug replied with a grin. "And if we're lucky, enough left over for some topper girls."
The group burst into laughter, their voices carrying into the night.
From the shadows beyond the firelight, Snow watched them, her fists clenched so tightly her nails dug into her palms. Her longshooter hung from her shoulder, but she didn't reach for it. Not yet. This was personal.
She marched into the circle, her boots crunching over the gravel. The laughter faltered, heads turning as the Niners noticed her approach. Dug looked up, his grin widening.
"Well, well," he drawled. "If it isn't—"
Snow didn't let him finish. She surged forward, grabbing him by the front of his jacket and hauling him off the crate. Before he could react, her fist connected with his jaw.
"You think this is funny?" she snarled, hitting him again.
Dug yelped, his hands flailing as he tried to push her off. His cronies scrambled to their feet, but none of them seemed eager to step in. Snow was a known fighter, and none of them wanted to be on the receiving end of her fury.
"Snow!" one of them shouted. "Let him go!"
But she didn't. She slammed Dug to the ground, pinning him beneath her as her fists rained down. "You think you can take from her? Hurt her? You think you're untouchable?"
"Snow!"
The voice cut through her rage like a blade. She froze mid-punch, her chest heaving, and looked up to see Bricks standing at the edge of the firelight. His massive frame was silhouetted against the glow, his expression unreadable.
"Enough," he said, his tone calm but firm. "Get off him."
Snow hesitated, then shoved herself to her feet. Dug groaned, rolling onto his side, his face bloodied and swollen.
"Everyone, clear out," Bricks ordered, his eyes sweeping over the gathered Niners. "Now."
There was no arguing with Bricks. The Niners scattered, dragging Dug with them, casting wary glances at Snow as they went.
"Snow," Bricks said, his voice quieter now. "With me."
Bricks' tent was dimly lit by a single lantern, casting long shadows across the makeshift furniture. Snow stood in the center of the room, her arms crossed over her chest, as Bricks paced in front of her.
"What the hell were you thinking?" he demanded, his voice low and angry.
"They took her things," Snow said, her voice sharp. "They beat her, Bricks. Rain. A kid. And you're just fine with that?"
Bricks stopped pacing, turning to face her. "I'm not fine with anything," he said. "But I'm not fine with you causing a scene, either. You think the Niners respect you for that? You think they'll follow you?"
"I don't care if they respect me," Snow shot back. "I care about what's right. And what they did to Rain was wrong."
Bricks snorted, crossing his arms. "Right and wrong don't mean much out here, Snow. You know that."
Snow took a step forward, her voice rising. "Then why keep her here? Why let them treat her like dirt if she's so useless to you?"
Bricks met her gaze, unflinching. "Because of you."
Snow blinked, caught off guard. "What?"
"You're the best we've got," Bricks said. "You're the one they look up to, the one who keeps this group alive. And I know that if I toss Rain out, you'll go with her. And I can't afford to lose you."
Snow stared at him, her mind reeling. "So you're just using her to keep me in line?"
Bricks shrugged, unapologetic. "If it works, it works."
She shook her head, incredulous. "You don't get it, do you? She's not just some pawn you can use to control me. She's my friend."
Bricks raised an eyebrow. "And what's she done for you, huh? What's she done except drag you down? You think you can survive out there without us? Just the two of you?"
Snow's jaw tightened. "Maybe we can."
Bricks laughed, the sound low and humorless. "You'd be dead in a week." He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "Forget about her, Snow. Focus on yourself. On surviving. That's what matters."
He turned and walked out, leaving her alone in the dim light of the lantern.
When Snow returned to their corner of the camp, Rain was sitting on the ground, her knees pulled up to her chest. She looked up as Snow approached, her face still streaked with tears.
"Snow," she said, her voice small. "I… I think I should leave."
Snow frowned, crouching down in front of her. "What are you talking about?"
"This is my fault," Rain said, her voice trembling. "The way they treat you, the way Bricks looks at you now—it's because of me. If I wasn't here—"
"Stop," Snow interrupted, her tone firm but gentle. "This isn't your fault, Rain. None of it is."
Rain shook her head, fresh tears welling in her eyes. "You don't have to do this for me. You don't have to ruin your place here."
Snow reached out, placing a hand on Rain's shoulder. "I'm not staying here without you," she said.
Rain looked at her, her expression a mix of sadness and disbelief. "But why? Why would you throw everything away for me?"
Snow smiled faintly, a rare softness in her eyes. "Because you'd do the same for me. Wouldn't you?"
Rain didn't answer, but the look in her eyes was enough.
Snow leaned back, her smile growing. "Then don't ask me to do anything less."
Rain let out a shaky laugh, wiping at her eyes. "You're impossible, you know that?"
"Yeah," Snow said, standing and offering her a hand. "But you're stuck with me."
Rain took her hand, and for the first time in what felt like days, she smiled.
"Thank you," Rain said softly.
"No," Snow replied, pulling her to her feet. "Thank you. For reminding me there's more to life than just surviving."
They stood there for a moment, the flickering firelight casting long shadows around them, before Snow tightened her grip on Rain's hand.
"Let's get out of here," she said.