Claw stared at Spike with a blank expression for a good twenty seconds. He stared back, grinning as wide as his mouth would stretch.

"Told you you'd be mad. It was a good one, right?"

Claw finally found her voice; it came out as a whisper of barely-contained rage. "How long."

"Well," Spike tugged the short whiskers under his lower lip, "probably since the outpost. I mean, you took most of the pay in caps, right? I'd rob the shit out of us."

"How long." Claw took a breath. "Have you known."

"Oh. Uh," Spike tried to run a hand through the tangled black mess on his head, "maybe...four hours?" His fingers got stuck, and he yanked brutally. "I mean, I wasn't sure until five minutes ago, but- shut up, I'm talking! You said that fifty thousand times, I'm telling you, it's no big deal! " Spike gripped his head in one hand. "Hell no, I don't want her touching it!"

"Will you focus?" Claw snarled, grabbing his shoulders. "Never mind you didn't think the fact that we're being tailed wasn't important enough to bring up sooner. Tell me what you know." She glanced around, half expecting a raiding party to descend on the camp.

"One person and a dog. Wait, asswipe." He glared at nothing. "God, can you believe this guy? It's fine, you fucking worry too much." A short pause. "How?"

Claw gave him a good shake, teeth bared. "Idiot! Look at me, look at me! One person. A scout?"

"Probably not," Spike gazed skyward, "unless it's a really shit scout. Didn't even put themselves against the sunset. Kinda weird, really, doesn't seem like they're trying to catch up. No it doesn't! Fuck you, Steel, I'm better at this and you know it."

Claw's open hand drew back of its own accord; she forced it down with visible difficulty. Spike flinched back just far enough to be out of reach.

"First off," her tone was quiet and dangerous, "how far do you go from camp at night."

"He wasn't that far, only a mile and-"

"Secondly," Claw snapped, "you almost gave me a heart attack. Why wouldn't you tell me they're not hostile?"

"I didn't say they were." Spike flicked absentmindedly at his jacket lapel. "And you should have guessed."

Claw let out a barking laugh. "You're a fucking moron, and you're taking the mid-watch." She scooped up a handful of dirt and started scrubbing out her bowl, grumbling angrily under her breath.

"Hey, don't be like that." Spike knelt next to her and clapped a hand on her shoulder. "I would've told you if it were Raiders."

Claw shrugged him off forcibly. "Get away from me. I'm pissed, and I'm done with your bullshit tonight. I'm getting another fucking headache, so I'm going to be like this if I feel like it." She glared venomously. "I mean it. Piss off."

Spike frowned at her. "Jesus, you shoulda said something sooner. Gimmie that." He deftly yanked the bowl out of her hands. "Go to sleep. The Yup'll take first watch." He raised his voice in Samuel's direction. "Hear that, pussy? Boss has a headache. Be quiet."

Claw opened her mouth to demand he follow his own advice when she noticed the poorly-wrapped, dirty bandage on Spike's left hand. Instead, she glared at him accusatorially.

"What is that."

Spike tried to hide his hand behind his back, eyes refusing to meet hers.

"What's what?" he lied.

Claw glared up at him.

"I told you not to break anything."

Spike's eyes fell to the ground and he shifted back and forth, a chagrined expression on his face.

"It's not bad," he muttered. "Steel worries too much."

"...god damn it." Claw gave her eyeballs a poke, resigned to the ever-worsening migraine. "Sit down. Give me your fucking hand. Cutter, I need you to finish the dishes. Go get Sam to help you." She impatiently motioned Spike down; he complied hesitantly, still frowning.

"You should get to sleep," the young man told her, green eyes glittering in the firelight. "You're gonna puke again."

"Probably." Claw rooted through her pack for a bundle of medical supplies, then took him none too gently by the arm and began unwrapping Spike's sloppy bandaging. "But you're worthless to me with a gimp hand. Didn't even bother to set the bones, did you? Would've had to break them again." She tossed the dirty bandages into the fire with a sneer. "This is ridiculous. I told you, I told you-"

"Hey," the young man snapped, "I didn't fucking do it on purpose, ok? He came at me harder than I expected." A pause. "I know, all right?"

Claw ground her teeth as she examined Spike's hand. His third and fourth knuckles were still oozing, bone poking through the skin of both unnaturally bent fingers.

"You're going to want the belt," she told him crossly. "Punching a chestplate. So you winded him through his armor, proud of yourself?"

"I was making a point," Spike told her through gritted teeth. "And yeah, kind of. Take it easy, huh?"

"Shut up and get your belt," Claw grumbled, bending his wrist back and forth twice. A strangled grunt of pain rumbled in Spike's throat as he flipped his buckle open with his free hand.

"Dipshit." Claw glared at him. "You sprained your wrist, too."

"Tell me about it," Spike grumbled. "Fuckin' Yup's got some meat on him." He stared pointedly at Samuel, who was following Cutter back toward the fire. He got a blazing scowl in return, and grinned despite Claw's not-so-gentle attention to his injured hand. "Have fun with the dishes, Yu-" he cut himself short with a yelp as Claw poked his knuckle with her fingertip.

"I can't believe I'm going to waste a Stim on this bullshit. Belt. Now."

Spike rolled his eyes, yanking his belt loose and holding it out. Claw took it and folded it over several times, then shoved it into Spike's mouth.

"Ok," she began, closing her eyes against a fresh stab of pain behind them. "On three."

She took the end of his ring finger in a firm grip; Spike garbled something incomprehensible through clenched teeth, giving her an accusatory look.

"One," Claw said, as Spike's teeth dug further into the leather. She yanked immediately, and the meaty crunch of bones settling back into place was drowned out just as quickly by his strangled cry of pain.

"Almost over, idiot." Claw grabbed his middle finger. "Ready?"

Spike shook his head vehemently. Claw yanked anyway, her own teeth set. The young man's outburst was quieter the second time; as soon as she released his finger, he slumped forward, belt falling to the ground as he took in heaving gasps of air.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck," a few fat tears squeezed past his clenched eyelids, "what did I say, this is why I didn't wanna tell her, fucking three my ass." He raised his head to glare at Claw, wiping away the moisture with the back of his good hand. "Just once, you could go on three."

"Shut. Up." The woman took a Stimpak and jabbed Spike just above the wrist. He grunted, teeth grinding audibly as the swelling began to recede and fresh scar tissue crept up his knuckles.

"So what do we do?" Samuel asked, looking up from the cooking pot. Claw glanced at him briefly, forehead creased against her ever-worsening headache.

"Huh?"

"Someone's following us." Samuel looked at her like she was stupid. "What do we do about it?"

Claw returned the look, managing a good deal more scorn. "Nothing." She returned her attention to Spike's hand; Samuel grunted in disbelief.

"Nothing," he repeated incredulously. "We're just going to keep going like everything's fine."

Claw huffed. "It's one person, not a raiding group. Right now, everything /is fine. If that changes, we'll deal with it."

"Maybe he's right," Cutter interjected. "I mean, shouldn't we do something, set up a tripwire around camp, maybe?"

"Do whatever you want." Satisfied that all Spike's bones were back where they belonged, Claw shoved his hand away. "But I'm not doing shit besides taking my watch," she continued, wincing when her headache spiked again. "Feel free to go out there and look. I'm sure you won't get killed and eaten."

Samuel's expression darkened several shades.

"We need to keep our eyes open," the young man persisted. "It could be a scout after all, trying to get our guards down by playing dumb."

"It's not a scout," Spike insisted, "anyone with half a brain knows how to hide in the sun."

"That's good tactical thinking," Claw told Samuel, "so make sure to keep a careful lookout tonight." Her head was in agony, the sensation of hot pokers in her eyes making the firelight unbearable. "I'm going to bed. Keep the noise down."

She stood up slowly; her stomach roiled, and she nearly lost her dinner. Shielding her eyes from the fire, she crawled into the tent and fell face-first on her sleeping roll. Pressing her face into the bundle of clothes that served as a pillow, she unstrapped her magnum, lay it near her hand, and finally allowed herself a soft moan of distress.

'Fucking headache. Two in less than a week. This is a sign, it's a fucking sign, on top of everything else? Has to be. Should turn us right the fuck around. It'd be too bad about Brian, but I'd send the caps back with the kid and be halfway to D.C. before he's got the funds to send someone after the supplies.'

She knew it was wishful thinking, and sighed.

'Honest mercs end up dead. Gotta quit being so fucking nice. After this run, maybe head south. Haven't seen what's there yet.'

She drifted into an uneasy sleep, the pain of her headache ever present in the background. She thought she heard the boys holding quiet conversations, but the words were nonsense and she couldn't focus on them. Bits and shreds of dreams chased though her head. A few were benign; most involved horrifically violent death.

Boss!

'Oh HELL no. I get enough of you during the day, get out of my head.'

A gunshot, this one very real and very close, had her on her feet, magnum in hand, before she was fully aware of being awake.

"Boss!" Spike shouted again. "We got a problem!"

Cutter had fallen asleep beside her sometime earlier, and was now scrambling for his own weapon. Claw was already outside, pressed tight to the rock they were camped against.

The fire was nothing but glowing red embers, casting little light on the wilderness. The stars seemed much bigger and brighter than she remembered; it had to be very early in the morning. Her headache had faded significantly, though the sound of the shots had brought it back and made her feel like she'd taken them through the eye.

A rifle cracked again in the darkness, the flash from the barrel blindingly bright. Samuel's profile was stuck in her vision for several seconds.

"What's going on?" she snapped, looking around for Spike.

"Wolves," Spike's voice called from above her. He'd somehow managed to get himself to the top of the seventeen foot boulder, and was aiming the opposite direction. "Dunno how many-"

"One less," Samuel interrupted. "Forty caps, buddy."

"This ain't a firefight," Spike told him, then fired his own rifle. "Shut up and kill some goddamn wolves."

Claw could see at least five large shapes looming nearby, moving with a liquid grace that made her stomach clench. She swore mentally, pulling back the hammer on her gun.

'Should have set up better defenses. What the fuck is wrong with me, if I die tonight, I damn well deserve it.'

"Protect the Brahmin," she snapped, already sprinting toward the panicked creature. Cutter was right on her heels, followed closely by Samuel. They surrounded Steaks, watching numerous pairs of luminescent eyes draw nearer. The Brahmin snorted and tossed its heads frantically while pawing at the hardpan. Every one of its instincts demanded a swift retreat, but it had been conditioned over many years to stay near humans.

Samuel and Spike fired again, almost simultaneously. Claw heard a loud, guttural yelp nearby, and Spike swore.

"Bullshit, I hit 'em dead on!"

One of the smaller beasts nearby snarled, and lunged forward. It was too dark to see clearly, but there was no mistaking the long lanky body, snubbed snout, and the maw of teeth inside. By themselves, wolves weren't particularly dangerous, at least not against someone who could aim a gun. However, they tended to travel in packs of at least twenty, some much larger, and were fiendishly clever.

Claw knew they were already surrounded. She mentally cursed herself again for not taking better precautions, for letting the boys be so loud, for not automatically assuming they'd be attacked in the middle of the night...

I'm going soft. I guess I am getting old.

A surge of white-hot anger rushed over her. Five thousand caps was a lot of money, and she had extravagant plans for it that she didn't intend to forfeit that easily. She aimed carefully, one foot planted firmly behind her, and fired.

The bullet ripped through the beasts chest, and it tumbled in a bloody heap across the ground. The magnum's kick nearly made the small woman fall, throwing her arms upward.

Cutter fired three shots before she'd lined up a second. She heard another yelp over the ringing in her ears; it had come from directly behind her. The boy was staring wide-eyed at a corpse not ten feet away, face sallow. He snapped out of it almost instantly when Claw shot again, the roar of the large handgun making him cringe despite himself.

"There's more!" Spike called down. "Counted fifteen. They ain't backin' off."

"Shit," Claw swore. Samuel fired, chambered another round, and fired again in less than two seconds.

"I fucking told you so," he yelled. "If dipshit had kept the fire going-"

"Not now!" She fired a third shot, and missed horribly. The wolf she'd been aiming for was bounding closer, leaping back and forth in an erratic pattern that was impossible to anticipate. Her headache was back with a vengeance, nearly incapacitating her with every gunshot. "How's the ammo?"

"Fifteen rounds." Samuel snapped a fresh clip into his rifle.

"Cutter?" The woman demanded, eyes flicking back and forth between more slinking shapes that had materialized out of the darkness.

"Five shots left in this one, two spare magazines," the boy replied breathlessly, and swallowed hard. "Claw, they're getting closer."

"I can see that," she snapped, and managed to bring down another wolf with an explosion of light and noise. This time, she couldn't keep from flinching. "Spike, how you doing?"

"I'm fine, because I'm the only one smart enough to stand where they can't reach me." He let out a brief burst of hysterical laughter. "Forget the fuckin' Brahmin and get up here!"

"They're expensive!" Claw screamed, most of her rational thought lost to adrenaline and pain that threatened to split her head like an overripe Mutfruit. In retrospect, it was probably best to get Cutter out of reach, and quickly. He was small and easy to drag away.

She opened her mouth to order him up the rock, and found herself unable to think of the words. Her vision began to go double, then narrowed as though she were being swept backwards into a long tunnel. Vomit rose in her throat.

'Oh fuck no.' It was getting harder and harder to think past the white-hot skewers in her brain. 'I am not passing out in the mid-'

The ground leapt up at her.

"Claw!"

Cutter's anguished cry drew Spike's attention immediately. Its cause made his stomach twist into hard knots.

Well, shit.

The woman was lying face down, her gun several feet away from her limp hand. She wasn't moving.

The wolves, most of which had been keeping some distance from the group, moved almost as one toward the suddenly-vulnerable target. Spike's fingers were a blur as he fired and chambered another round. One beast dropped. The other boys were still shooting as well, and three more followed in rapid succession. They'd thinned the pack by at least half, but the rest were getting much too close for comfort.

Spike fired again, and missed a vital spot. The wolf stumbled, but righted itself quickly, snarling and snapping in pain. He'd been a hair from pulling the trigger again when it fell and tumbled across the ground, suddenly much too limp.

'Goddamn Yup stole my kill.' Spike picked another target quickly; he had plenty to choose from. He brought another wolf down with a neat head shot, and two more took its place. They were making a final push, the allure of the unconscious woman too much to resist.

"You fucking coward, get down here and help!" Samuel screamed.

"I am helping!" Spike yelled with equal ire. "I need fucking range for this gun!"

You're going to regret it.

"Fuck off!" He demanded of the voice in his head, struggling to focus as another beast shot toward Claw.

Cutter screeched, an ear-piercing sound that made Spike's flesh crawl. The boy fired wildly, taking an extra three shots as the wolf collapsed not five feet from her. The rest had stopped advancing, sizing them up anew.

There were seven left that he could see. They seemed to be considering their losses more carefully, backing up several paces. They continued to slink back and forth, keeping his sights moving constantly. He fired, missed again, and had to reload.

Told you so.

He noticed far too late that Cutter and Samuel were doing the same. The wolves, however, had been paying more careful attention. The largest one dashed forward, was on top of Claw before Cutter's scream had reached its peak, and drug her away as though she were no more than a rag doll. It fell in behind the remainder of the pack, which vanished into the night.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Spike slammed the clip home, chambered a round, and fired blindly after them. He knew logically that it was a stupid thing to do, that he was just as likely to hit her as the creatures, but his thoughts had become a static, white noise. He jumped off the rock, hitting the ground in a roll and barely managing to keep from braining himself with his rifle.

He sprinted after them. Spike had always prided himself on his speed, among many other things, but had no illusions of catching up before the woman was dead. It didn't matter. He would find her, he would kill them all, and he would sit down beside her corpse and wait to see what happened next.