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[indent]The caravan consisted of two wagons drawn by slow, plodding brahmin. One caravan had supplies, though it was far from stuffed to the brim. It served as a sort of pantry and bedroom for those that traveled with the caravan. Members would take shifts walking alongside the caravan and resting in there. Yet, that was not the wagon that gathered the most stares, that would be the second wagon. It only had one item in it, a large metal box. It was as long as a coffin but twice as tall. There didn’t seem to be any seams to open the metal box, but there was a black screen at the foot, or head you couldn’t tell, with a small number pad. It was surprisingly slick, clean, and streamlined. The members of the caravan had all seen it before it was covered in blankets and straw. 

The two wagons were driven by a man called Shepard and his son Isaac. Shepherd had a permanent hunch, a weathered face, and a straw hat that hid his eyes. He was content to smoke cigarettes. One couldn’t tell when he’d worked through one and picked up another. He had a gravelly voice but a sincere smile. Isaac was the opposite. His hair was the color of mud and his eyes were dull gray. He looked bored. He’d usually drop the reins to the brahmin and lean back to catch a nap. It would only be until one of the brahmin found something more interesting to trudge to, that Isaac would grab the reins again.

Soldier walked alongside the first wagon. He looked unhappy and wouldn’t respond to most words spoken to him. The most anyone had heard from him was his disapproval of the group. He eyed Frankie four times every hour. Every time he’d touch his gun before his hand would drop. Rocket, on the other hand, was having the time of her life. She’d bounced between each of the Governor’s men. She’d been exceptionally interested in Legs and T. She rode on the wagon containing the package. She kicked her legs out and hummed. Sometimes she’d write in a journal. Yet for the most part, she seemed enraptured by the world around her.

As the group traveled, they’d notice that they had no problem passing through the Northern Province. Fields of farmland, the occasional dark stare from a stranger, and an odd movement in the razorgrain gave the impression that there was danger out there. Yet. The second wagon in their caravan flew the flag of Governor Cassom. Say what one might about the man and his leniency on crime, people were scared to mess with his property.

Dusk waved in as they passed the Northern Province’s border and into Centerland. Not an hour later they were covered in the darkness of night, with a tight tunnel of trees on each side. Shepherd led his caravan to an empty area to the side of the road. Isaac followed suit. Soldier frowned. “This doesn’t seem to be a good area to make camp. It’s not well fortified.” 

Shepherd shook his head. “Look, the beasts won’t travel much at night. So, we rest here no matter what.”

Soldier frowned. Rocket hopped off the wagon. “Let’s make a campfire,” she said. “Maybe tell stories about our pasts. Who wouldn’t like to learn more about each other?”

“Let’s not,” Soldier said.

Rocket smiled. “I have the magic death button, and so we are.” 

Soldier may have rolled his eyes.

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The late evening came quick enough. The campfire died down, while everyone hunkered down in their positions. Soldier took first watch. He didn’t trust the other men, yet. So. He leaned against the first wagon and eyed the darkness with as much clarity as one could penetrate the sheer veil of night. It was then that he heard a soft tapping. Alert, her grabbed his warhammer and gripped it tightly in his hands.

It didn’t take him long to find the source of the tapping. Rocket was standing on the second wagon, having pushed away the straw and blankets. She was tapping against the metal box. Soldier came behind her and lowered his voice. “What are you doing?”

She jumped but clasped her mouth in her hands. A long sigh came when she saw who was speaking. “Just checking the box.”

“Are you supposed to check the box?” Soldier asked.

“Well—” Rocket started to say, but there was a noise. Her head jerked to the side. Soldier pulled out his Warhammer. 

Isaac stood there, rubbing his eyes. “How about the two of you shut up.”

Soldier exhaled and lowered his weapon. “I don’t take orders from a child. Especially not a—” he stopped talking, as his eyes caught something in the darkness. A massive figured stood over the young boy. There was movement, screaming and then nothing.

The group would wake up to Rocket’s ear-piercing scream. The scene before them is a disheveled second wagon and the headless body of Isaac, spitting blood onto the mud underneath it. His head would plop down from the trees a few seconds later. Rocket and Soldier were missing. Trees were splintered and cracked by the woods they were parked next to.

Shepherd ran towards his son. He let out a broken scream before falling to the ground before the body. Sobs wracked him. Darkness shrouded them all, and dawn was a long way off. [/indent]

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