Even bedridden and exhausted, Nora found it damn near impossible to rest. Beneath her bandages and stitches, the wounds burned and she had a dull, constant headache that kept her awake. As Dogmeat snored peacefully on the cot beside her, Nora flicked through the radio stations on her pip-boy, seeking some kind of distraction. But it was the same as it had been for the past few weeks.
Radio Freedom listed a seemingly endless call for help from various settlements, DCR relayed all the strange occurrences being reported across the Commonwealth, the Brotherhood's looped message requested contact from the Prydwen and their missing units, and as for the Institute's classical station…
Dead air.
"Ah, the sound of silence."
Nora jumped, looking to where a figure had materialised at her bedside. He was dressed like a Minuteman, head covered by his hat and his eyes by a pair of sunglasses. "Good choice there, Boss. The news on the other stations is just depressing."
Nora blew a sigh of relief and sank back against her pillows, turning the radio dial off.
"Don't suppose you have anything better for me than the radio, do you, Deacs?"
"Just more of the same," he replied. "Strange monsters roaming the Commonwealth, Institute's a no-show, freak radstorms, vanishing settlements. Apparently Atom showed up for some cultists, but they'd already been divided or whatever by the time I got there. Nothing left of them but some guts and a whole lotta cheese."
"Wait - what?"
Deacon raised both hands. "Seriously, I'm not lying about that. Truth is stranger than fiction, Boss."
"Well, what about the Brotherhood? Have you learned what happened to the Prydwen or –" Her throat caught on his name.
"Sorry, but I've got nothing on the Prydwen or Danse."
She closed her eyes, swallowing her disappointment. "Right."
"Well, I've gotta get back to it. Lots more nightmare fuel to see." Deacon was already at the door, watching her from behind his shades. "Take care of yourself, Charmer. Sounded like it was a close call."
"You too, Deacs. Good luck out there."
He stepped beyond the threshold just as another person appeared, tipping his hat to them. Nora watched as Preston returned the gesture, sparing Deacon a curious glance as he stepped inside before turning to her and removing his hat.
Preston had aged overnight, his face lined and the shadows of his eyes deep. Concern and guilt curdled Nora's gut as she watched him pull up a chair. Despite their argument the previous night, she didn't have the heart to hold onto her anger.
He was visibly exhausted, yet the concern in his eyes was genuine. In spite of the risks and the recent strain their friendship, he'd been among the first to leave the settlement walls and run to her aid. Whatever their differences, he was still one of her most loyal friends.
She gave him a smile as he settled in his seat.
"Long day?"
"Very," Preston sighed. "Still, it's been productive. Longfellow tracked down the monster, and confirmed the kill. He brought back the body, but… well, I don't know what to make of it. It's not like any deathclaw I've ever seen."
He dragged a hand over his face, shoulders slumped.
Nora thought of the beast, the intelligence and cruelty blazing in its eyes. Her wounds burned.
"Me neither."
"Still, with the monster gone at least these folks can sleep safe in their own beds… but we've already had another urgent call. Something about giants coming out of the glowing sea."
"Giants?"
"Yeah. Bigger than behemoths according to our scouts, and moving towards our settlements. I've already rallied the men, and as soon as we've resupplied and saddled the radstags, we'll be riding south to investigate.
"I just wish I knew where all of this was coming from, and how we could protect the people from it." Preston's voice shifted to one of frustration.
Nora swallowed, combing her fingers through Dogmeat's fur.
"Me too."
"Sorry. I didn't come here to weigh you down. I wanted to see how you were doing... and clear the air before I go."
Nora felt a twinge of guilt, and then more painful twinges as she eased herself upright with a hiss. Dogmeat stirred, blinking blearily before thumping his tail in greeting when he sighted Preston.
"I'm the one who should be sorry," Nora eventually spoke, forcing herself to meet Preston's eye. "You were right. About everything. Going beyond the walls was stupid, and I haven't exactly been the best leader of late."
"You've just been-"
"I haven't." Nora interrupted him. "And you weren't afraid to tell me what I didn't want to hear. Hell, you weren't even intimidated by Maxson when you met him."
She mustered a tight smile. "I know you'll do great in my stead, Preston. Just don't run yourself into the ground like I did, okay? Take care of yourself out there."
Preston's features softened, his lips parting in one of his broad smiles that alleviated some of the weary lines.
"I'll do my best so long as you promise to rest up. We need you fighting fit and leading the cause again as soon as you're able."
With you in my place? That's unlikely. The thought darted across her mind, bitter and full of self-pity. Preston was the better General, and she knew he would shine during this crisis, because that was who he was. The strong, compassionate and capable leader he had always been.
That she could never be.
But she reminded herself that he was a good man, and one of her most loyal and trusted friends. He didn't deserve her frustration and jealousy, and she knew in her shoes he wouldn't be so self-centred and bitter. Suddenly, she felt very tired.
She forced herself to shake the feelings away, determined to make this goodbye a warm memory for them both. After all, with how the world was turning, she might never get a second chance.
Nora awoke, her head throbbing painfully and body as heavy as lead. Her bones seemed to ache and she was drenched in sweat, her very blood burning beneath her skin.
She cracked her eyes open and groaned, blinking to clear her swimming vision. Save for the fluttering gold of candles, the room was dark. She heard a clink and a shadow moved over her, a hand cupping the back of her head to raise it from the pillow. A glass was pressed to her lips. "Here. Take a sip."
Nora managed to swallow a trickle of water before she turned away. Longfellow lowered her head back to the pillow and removed the flannel from her forehead. She heard a splash and then it returned, blessedly cool and damp.
Swallowing hard, she turned to look at where he sat at her bedside. "How long was I out?"
"Few hours, give or take," Longfellow replied, his face shifting in and out of focus. "How are ya feelin'?"
"Awful."
"Figures. You look it."
Nora swallowed again. Her throat felt like it had been lined with crushed glass. "Has there been any news?"
"Garvey reached Somerset after nightfall, but otherwise nothin'."
She heard a pop followed by the slosh of liquid, and peered to where Longfellow was taking a swig from his hip flask. She caught the scent of firebelly and gave an amused huff.
"That stuff's gonna rot your guts," she whispered, her eyelids growing heavy.
"I ain't some soft mainlander, Cap'n." Longfellow snorted. "Maybe you should try drinkin' some. It'll either kill what ails ya or knock you out again."
"'M good," Nora whispered. "Feeling tired already."
As she drifted off to unconsciousness Longfellow sighed, his shoulders slumped beneath his coat. "Just wake up tomorrow, Cap'n."
Blood. Nora could taste it in her mouth, smell it in the air. But why?
She felt tired and sore, but her fever was gone and her wounds no longer burned. She felt better than she had in days. Weeks, even. She sighed and flexed her fingers, damp soil catching under her nails…
Soil?
Nora's eyes snapped open and her heart rate spiked. She gasped, her aches forgotten as she scrambled away from the carcass beside her.
A radstag lay dead on the ground, its two heads staring lifelessly up at the spindly canopy overhead. One of its throats had been torn clean out and the stomach ripped open, its innards partially devoured. Blood saturated the ground.
Nora began to shake, her jaw clenching as she glanced down at her own body. Save for the chain that held her holotags and wedding rings, she was naked, her skin caked in the blood and gore in which she'd been lying.
Her stomach churned and she rose on shaky legs. Stumbling towards a nearby tree, she doubled over, her shoulders heaving as she retched.
Blood and chunks of what looked awfully like raw meat spattered the ground.
What the fuck?
Nora's eyes widened in horror and her gorge rose. She managed to stagger a few steps away before vomiting again. Eventually, when nothing more came up, she tried to regain her composure and take in her surroundings, her legs threatening to buckle with every step.
She was in a wooded area, rocks and knotted roots catching on her bare feet as she stumbled between the trunks, trying to avoid the piles of deadfall and thickets that blocked her way. The world was shrouded in pre-dawn gloom, the sky gradually lightening above the canopy.
She couldn't see any distinguishing landmarks but surmised she must be in the north-west reaches of the Commonwealth, where the woodlands were most dense. She wished she had her pip-boy to confirm it.
As she walked she scratched at her arms, trying to scrape away the grime and blood from her skin. Her eyes fell upon a stout wooden branch that had fallen from a tree and she took it as a weapon, praying that she ran into nothing worse than bloatflies before she found a friendly settlement.
The sun rose, gradually illuminating the wasteland as she pressed on. Every now and again she spied large shadows ghosting through the distant trees, but none attacked her. Radstags.
Finally she slowed to a halt, leaning against a tree to catch her breath and check her feet. The soles were sore, cut up by the unforgiving terrain. She leaned back against the trunk and hugged herself, one hand clutching her rings and holotags as she tried to keep it together.
With a deep breath she forced herself to take another step, only to pause, her head cocked.
Something whispered in the silence.
She strained to hear it, turning on the spot as she searched for the source.
"Hello?" her voice was hoarse, but carried through the stillness of the trees. "Is someone there?"
The whispering intensified. The words were indecipherable, but the voices - they were familiar.
"Danse? Brandis?" she walked towards the voices, her eyes desperately scanning the trees for any sign of the phantom speakers. "Arthur? Where are you?"
A large, boxy shape became visible between the trunks and she quickened her pace, the voices growing louder until she could hear them calling her.
Nora. Nora...
Her breath came in short pants as she sprinted into a small clearing, rounding the side of an ancient cabin. The wooden steps creaked as she climbed onto the porch, one hand reaching for the door, wrenching it open.
She froze in the doorway, staring wide-eyed into the gloom beyond.
Sunbeams dappled the floorboards, illuminating a single room occupied only by the remains of a pre-war skeleton, its bones scattered amongst the leaves carpeting the floor.
Nothing. But the whispering hadn't stopped.
Nora stepped inside, holding the branch before her. She wanted to call out, but fear constricted her throat.
A mattress lay on the floor-and there, lying at its centre, was a book. A book that was whispering her name. It was bound in a strange black leather, the cover embossed with an eldritch monstrosity contained within two rings. Its tentacles writhed and she blinked, only to find that the image was static.
The whispering grew louder.
Nora reached her hand towards it and the air seemed to pulse, crackling with energy-
A bark echoed outside and she drew back, the spell broken. She limped back to the door, just as Dogmeat clattered up the steps. At the sight of her, he whimpered, tail wagging furiously as he rushed towards her.
"Dogmeat!" Nora dropped the branch, relieved tears welling in her eyes as she crouched to greet him.
He stopped a few feet away, muzzle lifted as he sniffed the air. He flattened his ears and his hackles rose, his tail falling between his legs. He whined, backing up when she took another step towards him.
"Shhh! Hey! Hey, it's me, boy!" She whispered, his image blurred as the first tears began to roll down her cheeks. "Please, Dogmeat. It's me!"
Dogmeat whined again, and then, ever so slowly drew closer. Nora forced herself to remain still as he cautiously sniffed the air, and then her outstretched hand - then all at once he was throwing himself at her, tongue lapping at her cheek as she buried her face in his fur.
Their reunion was interrupted the quiet thud of hooves, and she glanced up in time to see Longfellow emerge around the side of the cabin leading a radstag by its reins.
"Cap'n!"
Nora's head snapped up to see Longfellow striding around the cabin, leading a radstag by its reins. His eyes, usually so sharp and controlled, widened with horror as he took her in. Seconds later he thunked onto the cabin porch, leaving the stag at the steps.
"What happened? Are you alright?"
Nora couldn't speak, nothing but a hoarse whine escaping her throat as she rose and staggered towards the old hunter, only for her knees to buckle.
Longfellow caught her, staring at the blood caking her body. A few moments later he'd shrugged off his coat and draped it about her shoulders.
"It's gonna be alright, Cap'n. We're gonna get you home," Longfellow reassured her, his voice quaking. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, leading her back towards the radstag only for the animal to snort and back away, pawing at the earth.
"Hey! Now what's gotten into you?" Longfellow demanded, leaving Nora's side to grab the reins. "Calm down!"
Longfellow was able to pull the dominant head down, but the other bellowed and the beast reared up, kicking the air with all four front legs. Longfellow cussed, ducking to the side and avoiding its kicks.
Nora watched as he struggled to calm the stag down, leading it a short distance away. When he had it back under control, he beckoned her to come towards them, but the animal became skittish again, trying to pull free.
Longfellow gritted his teeth, stubbornly holding on. When Nora backed away the stag grew a little calmer though the second head continued to watch her with nostrils flared. Longfellow tied the reins around a low hanging branch and huffed, coughing as he caught his breath.
"Must be the smell of the blood on ya," he panted, turning back to Nora.