Chapter 7: Looming Omen

Dawn came creeping in thin slivers of light over the jagged hills, chasing the shadows from the Niners' camp. Snow tugged her scarf tighter against the morning chill, standing apart from the others as Bricks led her toward the meeting point. The air was thick with the acrid tang of smoldering campfires, mingled with the earthy scent of horses and the faint rust of distant machinery.

The Eastern Alliance convoy was waiting just beyond the rocky outcrop that served as the edge of the Niners' camp. Snow squinted as the sunlight glanced off their wagons, a sharp contrast to the patched-together mess of the Niners' own. These weren't the kind of wagons Snow was used to seeing—ramshackle things barely holding together with ropes and bolts. No, these had once been vehicles of the Old Ones, stripped of their engines and motors but still retaining their sturdy frames. Gleaming steel and reinforced panels gave them an almost regal appearance, and their wheels were wrapped in thick rubber that didn't groan and creak under the weight of their cargo.

The wagons were pulled by muscular horses, their coats groomed to a shine that made Snow's own mount look like a scrappy mutt by comparison. Banners hung from the sides, bright with the red-and-gold sigils of the Eastern Alliance clans.

"Fancy," muttered Big Tooth, one of the Niners, as they approached. His tone was dripping with equal parts awe and resentment.

Snow didn't respond. She was too busy sizing up the convoy's cargo. A group of Easterners—men and women dressed in clean, tailored coats—stood by the wagons, their eyes sharp and measuring as they watched the Niners approach. Flint, their leader, stepped forward to greet Bricks, his expression cool but polite.

"Good morning, Captain Bricks," Flint said, his voice smooth and practiced. "I trust your people are ready for the journey?"

"Ready as we'll ever be," Bricks replied, though there was an edge to his tone. He gestured toward the wagons. "Mind if we take a look at what we're escorting?"

Flint hesitated, his smile thinning slightly, but he nodded. "Of course. Transparency builds trust, after all."

Snow followed Bricks as Flint led them to the rear of the first wagon. A pair of Easterners pulled open the doors, revealing rows of wooden crates stacked neatly inside. Snow leaned closer as Bricks peered into one of the open boxes.

Inside, there were bolts of fine fabric, shimmering in the light like liquid gold. Another crate contained jewelry, glittering with gemstones in intricate settings. A third box held bottles of what could only be shroomshine, their labels marked with the Eastern Alliance's distinctive sigil. The faint, sweet smell of the mushroom brew wafted out, making Snow's nose wrinkle.

"Luxury goods," Bricks said, his voice flat. "This is what we're risking our necks for?"

Flint gave a small shrug. "Our clients demand the finest, Captain. The Alliance thrives on trade, and trade thrives on quality."

Snow snorted softly, stepping back to survey the rest of the convoy. The other wagons likely held more of the same—goods that the Niners couldn't even dream of affording. She could feel the unspoken tension among the Niners behind her, their eyes darting toward the wagons with a mix of envy and resentment.

"These people must sleep on beds stuffed with metal," muttered one of the Niners under his breath.

"Or gold," another replied bitterly.

Snow ignored them, though the sight of the convoy's wealth left a sour taste in her mouth. The Eastern Alliance clearly lived in a world far removed from the harsh, scavenging life of the Niners. It was hard not to feel the sting of comparison, but Snow pushed the thought aside. They weren't here to gawk—they were here to work.

"Is this all of it?" Bricks asked Flint, his tone curt.

Flint nodded. "Yes. And we're trusting you to see it safely to the Brownstone Canyons. I've heard... unsettling stories about that region."

"It's not a place for the faint-hearted," Bricks said simply.

Flint's expression tightened, but he didn't press further. He turned to address his people, barking orders to prepare the convoy for departure. The Easterners moved with practiced efficiency, checking the harnesses on their horses and securing the wagons' loads.

"Alright, Niners!" Bricks barked, turning back to his own crew. "Pack it up! We move out in ten!"

The camp erupted into motion as the Niners began dismantling their tents and loading up their gear. Snow helped where she could, but her mind was elsewhere, her eyes drifting toward the horizon. The east loomed ahead, a desolate expanse of rocky terrain and treacherous canyons.

Rain appeared at her side, clutching her bag tightly. "Do you really think we can get through the canyon?" she asked quietly.

Snow glanced at her. Rain's face was a mixture of worry and something else—something that looked dangerously like excitement.

"It doesn't matter what I think," Snow said. "We're going."

Rain bit her lip, glancing back toward the wagons. "I just... I can't stop thinking about the drive. What if it holds something—something big?"

"Then we'll deal with it when we get there," Snow said flatly.

Rain nodded, though she still looked troubled.

By the time the Niners were ready to move, the sun was climbing higher in the sky, casting long shadows across the landscape. The convoy rolled out in a slow, steady procession, the Niners flanking the wagons on horseback while Bricks took the lead.

Snow and Rain brought up the rear, their eyes lingering on the distant silhouette of the Crowe's trading station. The towering spires of junk and scrap seemed almost peaceful in the morning light, a stark contrast to the chaos that had unfolded there the day before.

"I hope we don't have to come back here anytime soon," Rain said softly.

Snow didn't respond, her gaze fixed on the horizon. The path ahead was uncertain, but one thing was clear: the Brownstone Canyons were waiting, and whatever dangers they held, the Niners would face them head-on.

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After trekking for a few long days, The Brownstone Canyon loomed ahead like the mouth of a giant beast, its jagged walls rising sharply from the earth and casting deep shadows across the narrow path. Snow rode ahead of the convoy, her horse's hooves kicking up fine dust that caught in the dying light of the day. She scanned the horizon with practiced eyes, her longshooter slung across her back, ready to be drawn at a moment's notice.

Riding alone wasn't new to her; she preferred it, truth be told. The solitude let her think, let her plan. But today, her thoughts were restless, circling like carrion birds over the wagons trailing behind her. Rain was back there, riding in one of the Easterners' polished relics of the Once-World, and Snow couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that trouble was brewing.

The journey so far had been uneventful—at least on the surface. The Niners were their usual rowdy selves, cracking crude jokes and passing around bottles of cheap booze they get from trading back at the Crowe's trading station. The Easterners, by contrast, kept to themselves, their conversations hushed and their movements efficient. They were like two mismatched pieces of a broken machine, grinding against each other with every mile.

By the time they stopped to camp for the night, the air was heavy with unspoken tension.

The Niners set up their usual chaotic sprawl of tents and makeshift shelters, the air filling with the smell of roasting meat and the sound of off-key singing. On the other side of the camp, the Easterners maintained their orderly discipline, their wagons arranged in a tight circle and their fires burning with precise uniformity.

Snow watched from the shadows of her own small camp as the Easterners gathered around for their own version of leisure time. They were playing some kind of dice game, their voices low and measured as they placed their bets. The game's name—Caravan—floated over to her on the wind, mingling with the laughter of the Niners who had taken notice.

"Think they'll let us play?" Big Tooth asked, his grin wide and eager as he nudged a fellow Niner.

"If you've got metal, they'll take it," said another, already ambling over.

Snow shook her head as she watched them approach the game like wolves circling prey. The Easterners welcomed them with polite smiles, though their eyes betrayed no fear—only confidence. The game began anew, and it didn't take long for the Niners to start losing, their boisterous laughter fading with every metal they handed over.

"Careful, boys," Snow muttered to herself. "They didn't get those wagons by being stupid."

Rain, meanwhile, sat perched on the edge of one of the wagons, her face illuminated by the glow of a lantern as she read a battered book. Snow could just make out the faint murmurs of her voice, whispering words to herself as she traced the lines of text with her finger.

Flint noticed her too. The leader of the Easterners stood with his arms crossed, his sharp eyes narrowing as he watched Rain. Bricks approached him, and their conversation carried over to Snow's ears.

"She's a Knower, isn't she?" Flint asked, his voice cold.

Bricks hesitated, but only for a moment. "And?"

Flint's jaw tightened. "And you didn't think to mention that before we set out?"

"She's no threat to the trip," Bricks said, his tone calm but firm. "She's just a girl, Flint."

"She's a Knower," Flint snapped. "Do you have any idea what's happening in the east? The Crimson Legion's hunting them down, Bricks. They've got orders to kill any Knower they find—and anyone who's with them."

Bricks crossed his arms, his expression unyielding. "Without us, you wouldn't be making it through that canyon. So unless you plan to turn around and head back west, you'd better keep your opinions to yourself."

Flint's glare could have cut steel, but he said nothing more, turning sharply on his heel and walking back toward the Easterners' camp.

Snow clenched her fists as she listened. She didn't like Flint, but she liked what he'd said even less. The Crimson Legion. She'd heard the name whispered in the dark corners of trading posts—a ruthless force that burned entire settlements to the ground in their hunt for Knowers. And now the Niners knew about it too.

The shift in the camp's atmosphere was almost immediate. Whispers spread like wildfire, and Snow caught snippets of conversation as she walked among her fellow Niners.

"Why'd Bricks let her tag along?"

"She's a danger to all of us."

"She should go back to where she came from."

Snow's blood boiled, but she kept her face neutral, her hands steady as she tightened the straps on her gear. The Niners were scared—that much was obvious. And scared people were dangerous.

When she finally made her way back to Rain, the girl was still reading, oblivious to the storm brewing around her. Snow crouched beside her, laying a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey," she said softly.

Rain looked up, blinking as if she'd forgotten where she was. "Oh, Snow. Did you see the game? They're playing Caravan. I see it once—it's kind of exciting how they—"

"Rain," Snow interrupted, her voice firm. "Listen to me."

Rain frowned, her excitement fading as she noticed the tension in Snow's expression. "What's wrong?"

Snow glanced around, making sure no one was listening. "They saying things about you, a Knower."

Rain's eyes widened. "Who?"

"Everyone," Snow said. "Flint told Bricks, and now the whole camp's talking about it. They're scared, Rain. They're scared of you."

Rain's shoulders sagged, and she looked down at the book in her hands. "I didn't mean to cause trouble."

"I know," Snow said. She hesitated, then added, "They're talking about the Crimson Legion too. About what they do to people like you."

Rain's grip on the book tightened, her knuckles turning white. "Do you think they'll come after us?"

Snow didn't answer right away. She reached out and took Rain's hand, squeezing it tightly. "It doesn't matter," she said. "I'll keep you safe. No matter what."

Rain nodded, though her eyes were still filled with fear. Snow stood, her gaze sweeping over the camp. The Niners were her family, but Rain was... something else. Someone worth protecting.

As the night deepened, Snow sat alone by her small fire, her longshooter resting across her lap. The sound of laughter and dice rolling had faded, replaced by the low murmur of wind through the canyon. Somewhere in the distance, a coyote howled, its cry echoing off the stone walls.

Snow didn't sleep. She kept watch, her eyes scanning the darkness, her thoughts fixed on the path ahead.