Piper had unknowingly found herself on the edge of her seat, cigarette close to falling out of her slightly agape mouth, wrapped up in the story. "Unfortunately those bastards were feeling extra ambitious that day. They were combing up and down that canyon for a good half an hour. One of them got real close to catching me. He rustled the bush that was hiding me. If it wasn't for the fog being so thick he would've made me. The Trapper moved on, but they were still all over that valley. Only one bullet left, I'd rather not end up in a stand-off with 20-25 well-armed Trappers."
"20?" came another loud interjection from Livesey's table, "When you told us this story, you said there were maybe only 10-15." The brash retort brought Piper back to her senses and while Longfellow took another long drink of liquor, she wedged in her own question,
"And I though you said you always made sure to count your ammo after fighting that pack of wolves?" Longfellow sat the glass down slowly, buying time to think of an answer.
"Livesey, you keep interrupting we'll be here all night." Avoiding the question, he then turned back to Piper, "I was out of bullets because I wasn't expecting to have to shoot through a whole mess of super mutants. Remember the plan was to avoid them best we could inside the factory. Now, where was I?" Old Longfellow swirled his drink,
"Telling us how many trappers you had surrounding you." Piper's sly tone got a hearty smile from all the fishermen at the other table.
"There were 20 of'em. I couldn't sit in my hidey hole for much longer. I heard a break in the commotion. Suspected the trappers had settled in and were just waiting for me to move, and move I did."
"So you just played into their hand?" came a question of confusion from the reporter as she took the cigarette from her mouth to gesture.
"Aye, but like I said, those trappers aren't the brightest. I was feeling pretty sure of myself. Took up my crutch and started down the pass. Fog was still soupy and getting thicker. Barely able to see my own hand. Avoiding stepping on all the dry leaves and twigs was a bigger challenge than it usually is for me thanks to those wounds. I was trying to make good time, then I hit a really big pile of sticks. Soon as I heard the crunch I knew I was in trouble. Started hearing voice from down the path. They were sorta whispering real loud that they heard movement. I didn't have time to think, just dropped down behind the nearest big rock. Hurt like Hell too. There were two of them from my account that came over. They were fumbling around in the fog, kicking at the ground. They were getting close, closer than I'd like. I was trying to move farther behind that rock without giving away my position. Crawling on that craggy rock was doing wonders for my leg, let me tell you." Reimagining the pain required another long drink of whiskey, "They finally figured they were just hearing a giant rat and started back down the valley towards the Pine Caverns. I crawled a little bit farther to be sure there weren't any stragglers, then I stood back up, couldn't crouch well, it shot pain up my leg." Longfellow refilled his glass, emptying the bottle, "Mitch, another bottle over here." His voice echoed loudly among the bar. The crowd was beginning to thin out as the hours on the clock reset to the single digits, "Keeping close to the wall, I could see when I was starting to come out of the pass. Kitteredge Pass has a lot of hard slate that lines the walls, all the soil runs down into the bottom of the chasm. When you start seeing the sides of the wall resemble hills of dirt you're getting close to the end. Unfortunately for me, I ended up bumping into a trapper standing on the incline out of the pass. He hesitated from the surprise of being charged into. He yelled 'gotcha' as he went for the pipe pistol on his waist. It got caught on a loose piece of mooring rope he had wrapped around him, gave me a chance to pull out my skinning knife and jam it in where ever I could get it to stick. He went quiet after a few jabs, but again I was on the run from more incoming. I didn't think I could hide again from all the trappers coming down on me and I was so close to the end I just ran for. Threw down my crutch and shot up out of that pass best I could." Debby dropped off a fresh bottle of house whiskey, Longfellow's cue to finish off his current glass and pop the cork, "I was climbing up that incline and I could hear all the trappers funneling down towards me. Knew of only one place I could run to."