The sun had reached its zenith a few hours ago and was well on its way toward the horizon. There was good cause to smile at this. There was the welcome cool of the evening to look forward to and the even more welcoming prospect of a lie down. Any wastelander would count the steps or seconds until they could rest their head, but there was even more reason to feel content at this point. You had have survived yet another day. It was sureness in the fact that the wastes hadn't beaten you. It was reason to flip a finger to the world.

A modest yet determined caravan of Brahmin was plodding along through the small, shallow valley snaking its way through the landscape. It was carrying everything and anything its owner could manage. From freeze dried meats, canned food and cooking oils to batteries and cleaning fluids.

At the front, pulling on a rope to lead the Brahmin on was a squat, yet sturdy man wearing a small, hooded jacket and goggles hanging around his neck to protect against dust storms. Still in his twenties, the naive enthusiasm, tarnished somewhat from the odd rough experience, still showed on his face.

Morris Holst looked back to his wife, Helena. She was walking alongside one of the Brahmin, fussing over their baby child. His improvised cot was stitched together using older Brahmin skins and hooked onto the flank of one of the beasts to keep out of the sun. She, like her husband had similar goggles held up above the eyes and the remnants of an old sheet wrapped around her head and neck.

"Leave the poor child alone, for God's sake," he called, "isn't he supposed to be sleeping?"

Helena removed her hand from the boy's forehead, wiped some drool from his face and hastily rubbed it away on her jeans. "Morris, he's warm!" she called back, "I think it's fever."

"Of course he's warm. It's a hundred degrees out here!" said Holst, guffawing at the panicked paranoia of his co-parent.

"At least let me give him some of that lotion," pleaded Helena, pointing her thumb towards the Brahmin at the back of the caravan.

"Hell no!" shouted Holst with a splutter, "That shit's worth a tonne! Besides I doubt it'll do any good, it says ages three and up on the bottle."

"Watch the language in front of the boy!" said Helena, causing Holst to shake his head in distain. Oh sure, he thought. Of course the kid gives a shit about whatever the hell I say.

Helena looked back at the last member of the family, guiding the Brahmin from the rear. Holst's twin brother, Nick had been enjoying the show from the back. Up until now, at least. The smile melted from his face as he saw Helena's gaze burn into him. He turned his baseball cap to face forward and cleared his throat.

"Nick, tell him," she said, "One bottle won't matter."

"Hey, don't bring me into this," said Nick, putting his hands up, "I'm not going to be the schmuck getting a roasting because of missing supplies again."

"Look, if there are any left after our time in Richmond, I'll gladly give it up for the boy," called Morris from the front, "hell why don't you take the kid to the doctor when we get there. I'll gladly give up the caps. Although if there's anything wrong with him I'll eat me foot!"

Nick laughed and shook his head. "He's such a miser."

Helena let it drop and trudged along with a face of thunder. Clearly she wasn't getting any help in this from the so called schmuck at the back.

Holst liked to think he knew the market around here and where it differed between the places he visited. After all it was his life's work. He always tried to make sure he was the first to know if, say, molerat meat could be bought in one settlement for half the price compared to just twenty miles away. Contacts in most local settlements would leave messages of sorts in exchange for odd favors and it had served him well over the passed few years.

He paused for a bit and looked back at the caravan. Just four Brahmin, he thought. That was all he could afford. In fact they were the most expensive commodity in this whole train. Although it was hardly surprising considering the hard times the area was going through. Since the fort at Fromberg had suffered such devastating attacks over the recent weeks people would not risk taking life stock anyway near the place, deciding to drive them straight to the settlement over at Greybull instead.

Holst shook such thoughts away after a few moments. At least he had gear to profit from and they were good qualty fo these parts. Besides, these nay-sayer thoughts were not his concern right now. What was his concern was where the caravan guard had got to. They had run ahead to make sure all was safe but they had been a while. Helena and Nick looked at him when they caught up.

"I just want to wait for Eddie and Cole to get back before we move on." Holst said, and turned to look for any sillhouettes on the nearby ridges. The two mercs had come at a high price and so far they had proved their worth. The cool of the evening may be welcoming, but night with protection was expensive, and night without protection was not a thought to settle the mind.