Angel Cave, September 6th 2281
Early Morning
*in terrible handwriting*
Woke up early, so I decided to pay a visit to night guards posted on a cliff overlooking the camp, using the alternate exit of Angel Cave. No one paid attention to me so I snuck up to a marked duffle bag in the corner of the opening. The rock above it was marked with white hand, telling visitor that it was a forbidden area as it belong to the world before, the 'Back When'. Superstition. Hefty supplies inside.
Then it happened, cloud crept into the valley like fur blanket. The air around seemed more damp and wetter. Another tribal who was fluent with common language described the natural occurrence as 'mist'.
I'd love to bask in the new experience, but I felt few presence just beyond the valleys. It was too quiet. I laid flat on the ground, fixing my position, and loaded my rifle. Other Dead Horses followed suit. The scope was unscathed fortunately, so I could scout further. Just below the white mist, I saw legs. The moment the mist subsided, I saw braided heads who had attacked the caravan.
'Shoot' a voice commanded. So I did. Put a bullet in the White Leg's head, just between the eyes. There were more, but the moment my first victim hit the ground, the rest ran away. Trying to reload the rifle, my right arm suddenly grew stiff. The voice said, '...a shame, but a good shot nonetheless'. Didn't need to turn to know it was Graham's.
Angel Cave, Night
*in different handwriting*
Volunteer writing again. Forced writing numbed my gun arm, again. Graham said I could explore Zion if I wanted to. The New Canaanites would help me return to Mojave but they were still in an uncomfortable position in the neighborhood. I won't leave until I have exacted revenge against the White Legs as well. So Graham gave me a fetch quest, forgive the term. Finding supplies in forbidden areas- as in places belonged to old world the tribes don't want to go into due to fear being chastised by their God- throughout the valley with Follows Chalk. The man was brave enough to ignore the superstition. The two of us scoured river area and found a fallen bus. It was not a pretty sight, bones of children and their toys scattered everywhere. Our target was there, the compass. It was broken, but I managed to repair it. Not quite as good when it was it's still in pristine condition, but it should make do.
Tomorrow's the fishing lodge and general store.