Samuel watched, as if through eyes not his own, the wolf bear down on Claw. His mind screamed at him to do something, but didn't bother to offer any helpful tips on what or how.

Cutter's scream chilled him to the bone. As Claw was dragged away, the boy dry-fired his pistol over and over, still holding the magazine in his other hand. Samuel tried to get a bead on the retreating creature. It was too dark; everything after thirty feet blended into the same indistinct, dusky shadows.

Spike flew past, legs a blur and coat streaming out behind him. Cutter was hot on his heels, sucking back violent sobs. Left alone with the Brahmin, which had calmed considerably now that the predators were out of its vicinity, Samuel swore and wracked his brain for a plan.

He didn't think he'd be able to catch up, even if he were willing to leave the thousands of caps worth of supplies behind. Best case scenario, he got lost in the dark. With his luck, he'd end up falling into a ditch and breaking his leg.

"Fucking shit." The young man buried his face in his hands. "I can't believe I fell asleep on his watch, I knew something like this was going to happen."

With no better plan, he built the fire back up in its little depression and began moving the numerous carcasses away from camp. He contemplated burning them; Cutter would have an easier time finding his way back, but he was worried the smell would attract something even meaner than wolves. Without backup, he didn't fancy risking it.

The animals, nothing but dense bone and muscle, were heavier than they looked. By the time Samuel finished, he was out of breath and sweating even in the cool night air. It would be blazing hot in hours; everything else in the near future promised to be equally unpleasant.

"Dad's gonna be so fucking pissed," he muttered to himself.

'He shouldn't mind taking Cutter in,' the young man pondered, 'the kid's great with guns.' Samuel sighed sadly. 'He's gonna take it hard. At least we didn't get very far.'

He leaned against the boulder, rifle in hand, and kept an uneasy watch on the surrounding wasteland. His heart refused to quit pounding in his chest, and every small noise made him jump. The Brahmin, on the other hand, was perfectly content, both heads chewing quietly in an offbeat cadence.

Samuel found himself glaring at it. Brahmin were easy to replace, and not nearly as expensive as Claw seemed to have thought. He gave himself a mental thrashing for ignoring the woman's sudden lack of judgement, and another for not thinking of climbing the boulder himself.

As his father would say, there seemed to be some stupid in the air.

The eastern horizon had begun to blush with the faintest hint of light. Samuel contemplated eating, found he wasn't the least bit hungry, and returned to scanning the area. He hoped Cutter didn't take too long in saying his goodbyes. The trip back was going to drag on enough as it was.

"Oh hell, that isn't good." James Neeson dropped a pair of night vision binoculars around his neck and drew a laser pistol from his hip. The little girl crouched next to him frowned reproachfully.

"Daddy, that's bad words," she whispered. "Mommy's watching."

"Sorry, honey," he replied out of instinct, not particularly sure he wouldn't have the opportunity to apologize in person soon enough.

The remaining pack was headed right for him. He could only marvel at the luck that they'd attacked the caravan first, but it didn't seem to be holding out.

A large, shaggy dog nearby was growling and snapping at the air, begging to be turned loose against the howling monsters.

"Heel, Dioji!" James hissed, hunkering lower and aiming into the darkness. It was possible they would be ignored. Possible, but highly unlikely. The pack was on the hunt, their course steady.

His instincts screamed at him to run, but he forced himself to remain calm and take aim. The little girl buried her face in his side, small hands clutching his shirt with suprising strength.

James cranked the power output into the red zone. He knew it would drain the energy cell almost immediately, but if any of his shots weren't lethal, he wouldn't live to miss it.

"Don't open your eyes until Daddy says, all right?"

She nodded into his shirt silently.

"Good girl." He took a long, deep breath, and sent up a brief plea to anyone that might be listening.

The wolves' howling changed in tone, becoming clipped and shrill. They'd picked up the scent. James' heart thrashed against his ribcage when he began to make out movement; he set his teeth with grim determination.

"Dioji. Sic 'em."

The dog was off like a shot, his deep snarls vibrating at the base of James' skull. He smashed into the lead wolf like a ton of rocks, catching the larger animal off-guard and bowling it clean over. Dioji's teeth latched around its throat, and he began swiping mercilessly at the wolf's underbelly with his sharp back claws.

The awful sound of their fighting rent the night. They screeched and snarled like demons; the rest of the pack turned as one to assist. James let his mind slip downward, below coherent thoughts and into the realm of pure instinct. He would not miss. He could not miss.

The little girl trembled fiercely against him, and began to make quiet choking noises.

"Shhh," James hushed, using the soft reassurance to breathe out. He fired, and a beam of red pierced the night with blinding brilliance. It struck one of the beasts just before it latched onto Dioji's back leg; with a flash of light, the wolf disintegrated into ash.

The others were briefly stunned, both by the light and the sudden disappearance of their comrade. Dioji finally managed to break through his opponent's thick hide, and tore its throat out with a spray of blood. In the starlight, it was black as oil.

The split second was all James needed to dispatch two more. He blinked furiously, trying to clear his eyes of the blinding afterimage from the pistol. He could already feel heat radiating from it. He'd be damned lucky if there was a fourth shot left in the energy cell.

He fired anyway. Luckily for him, there was still some charge. Not so luckily, his target had recovered its senses, and managed to avoid the shot by a hair. Dioji leapt in front of the wolf, which in turn bolted right past; it knew that a man with a gun was more dangerous than another, smaller animal, no matter how fiercely it fought.

The dog wasn't having any of it. He leapt again, landing on the wolf's back in a flurry of teeth. They were a blur of blood and flying fur, and James knew a good deal of it was Dioji's.

There was no time to worry about it, though.

Even through the battle fog in his head, James prayed.

Please.

There was one wolf left, and it was coming right for them. Time seemed slower than usual. He thought if he'd been inclined, it would be possible to count the thick ropes of saliva stretched between its fangs.

He pulled the trigger, waited for the blinding flash of red, and felt his stomach wrench when nothing happened.

'Damn it.'

His finger pulled again, seemingly of its own accord, and held down the trigger. The pistol gave a protesting whine.

The bolt that shot out wasn't nearly as bright, but struck true. While the beast didn't vaporize, the small, smoking hole just above its muzzle was more than sufficient to take it down.

Dioji and the last wolf were still fighting, the noise making James' skin crawl. He wrung his hands around the pistol. Even if he weren't positive he'd just drained the cell, the animals were moving too quickly for him to line up a shot. His conscious thought had returned, and with it a good deal of guilt.

He desperately hoped the dog had another one in him.

There was a noise to his right. Something heavy was being dragged across the rocky ground; with sudden, sick realization, James recognized the sound as a limp body. There was a soft thud as it fell, and another wolf seemed to materialize in front of him. He barely had time to raise his arms before the beast hit.

He was knocked flat, head hitting the ground hard enough to make him see stars. The pistol skittered across the ground. Dazed, it took him a moment to realize he wasn't dead, and that the horrible screams filling his ears weren't the screeches of the damned. His hands were locked around the wolf's throat, keeping it from ripping his own open by a matter of inches. The beast's rancid breath smelled like death, and hot ropes of saliva were splattering across his face.

"Daddy!"

The little girl sat on the ground nearby, screaming for him over and over at the top of her lungs. The piercing sound cut into James like a knife.

"Sarah, run!" he cried, elbows beginning to tremble. He tried to get a grip on the wolf's windpipe, but there were layers of wiry muscles roiling against his fingers. James squeezed viciously, breaking the skin and digging in as hard as he could. "Go!"

A shrill, canine yelp cut through her shrieks of terror. James cried out in frustration, trying to get any bit of leverage against the beast. There wasn't much to be found. His arms were shaking fiercely, slowly but surely being pushed back. Fangs grazed his windpipe just hard enough to draw blood. The man closed his eyes.

'I know I deserve this. But she doesn't. You know I tried, please, don't let her suffer. Please, Lord, let her use the pistol.'

Strangely, James didn't feel the beast's teeth sink into his throat. However, the crack as his neck snapped seemed deafening. Hot blood sprayed across his face.

"Daddy!"

He could still hear her screaming. James wasn't terribly surprised; he'd accepted that he was going to Hell a long time ago. He loathed to open his eyes, grimly waiting for his skin to start burning.

"Fuck me, this is going to waste a lot of Stims."

A woman's voice.

Catherine. No, please God, no. Not you too.

But it couldn't be her voice. This voice was deeper, gravelly; this voice smoked too many cigarettes and yelled, loudly and often.

He suddenly became aware that his opponent had gone limp. James dared to open his eyes, and found himself staring into the lifeless eyes of the wolf. A large, messy hole had decimated most of its forehead. The man took in a great gasp of breath he hadn't realized he was holding, and pushed the corpse off himself.

'Thank you. I'll keep trying. I promise.'

"Daddy!" Sarah bolted for him, sobbing uncontrollably, and threw herself into his waiting arms. James held her tight to his chest, his own body shaking in sporadic bursts.

"Are you all right, baby?"

She was crying too hard to respond, begining to hyperventillate. The man rocked her back and forth, crooning under his breath and patting her back gently.

"Why are you following me?"

The woman's voice again. James looked up, startled; he had nearly forgotten about her. She stood nearby, quite short and looking decidedly worse for wear. She clutched a smoking .9mm pistol in her left hand, and was pointing it right at him.

"Easy now," he spoke softly, "I don't mean you any harm. I'm just a traveler."

"I said." She glared furiously at him. "Why. The fuck. Are you following me."

"To let you clear the way!" James made sure he was positioned between his daughter and the woman's line of fire. "I'm a single man with a small child. As you just saw, I'm not exactly outfitted to defend us properly."

She lowered the gun slightly.

"Yeah, I was there." She winced visibly, eyes squinting. "Wasn't going so great for me, either." She took a few steps to the left, kicked the laser pistol away, then holstered and secured her own weapon. "Call me Claw. Thanks for getting in their way, I guess."

"James." He forced himself to relax slightly, once again patting the little girl on the back. She was crying more quietly now, arms latched around him. "You saved our lives. Thank you."

"Yeah," she agreed flatly. "But I guess we can call it even. I'm not in the mood to haggle right-" Her eyes suddenly went wide, and she scrambled for her weapon. "Look out!" Claw shouted. "There's another one!"

James whipped his head around, instinctively curling over Sarah. Something large and shaggy was limping toward them. His own eyes grew huge, he dropped the girl unceremoniously, and lunged for Claw's knees.

"No!"

He struck her just as she fired. The shot went wide, and they hit the ground hard. The gun went off again; James could feel the breeze as the bullet wizzed by his ear.

"What are you doing?!" the woman screeched as he latched onto her wrist, pointing the pistol skyward. "It's right behind you!"

"That's my dog!" he yelled back. James felt as though he might burst into simultanious laughter and tears. "It's just my dog," he repeated more quietly, releasing her as relief swept over his body.

"Dog. Just the goddamn dog." Claw flopped into the dirt, closing her eyes with a groan. "Idiot was right. He didn't guess the kid, though. Good, it'll bug him for days."

Sarah, surprisingly unflustered, threw herself around the dog's neck and buried her face in his ruff.

"Dioji! You did it, you did it! You're a good dog. Good Dioji."

The dog whined softly, craning his head to lick her cheek. One paw was clutched firmly to his underbelly, and there was a steady trickle of blood dripping into the parched dirt.

"Claw!" A faint cry carried through the still air. James tensed again, and scrambled to his feet.

"Just my boys," the woman told him, gripping her forehead. "About damn time. Over here!" she yelled, eyes clenched shut.

James stood up, and quickly moved to join his daughter in fawning over the dog. Dioji would need medical attention, but the wounds didn't seem life-threatening.

It wasn't long before the sound of running feet reached his ears. A tall, lanky young man came sprinting into sight, a hunting rifle swinging precariously from one shoulder. He skidded to a halt, tripped, and fell nearly on top of Claw. Rolling onto his side, he started laughing in sporadic bursts, gasping for breath.

"You...fuckin' scared us, boss! What the fuck...happened back there?"

"Headache," Claw snapped, holstering her pistol. "So this one's on you, too. That makes five."

"Four." He was beginning to catch his breath. "Tent wasn't my fault." He noticed James, and gave him a withering glare. "Oh look. You found the tail. Want me to kill 'em?"

"No." She groaned again. "Let me guess. You didn't bring any Stims."

"Yeah, you were being dragged off by wolves, so my first thought was, let's grab my pack!'" The young man was briefly overcome by another bout of cackling. "Besides, you should be dead."

"I'm invincible," she replied flatly. "Say hello to James." She nodded in his direction. "He got in the way."

"No," he told her. "I don't like his face."

"Big surprise." She rose slowly to her feet. "James, this useless bag of bones is Spike, my second-in-line. You won't like him."

"Hello," James said distractedly, more concerned for his dog than pleasantries. It was hard to tell how bad the gashes were in the low light.

"Claw?!" Another, younger voice called out, cracking with unshed tears. A boy bolted into view, let out a strangled cry, and flung himself at the woman. She winced and patted him awkwardly with her left hand, the right hanging useless at her side.

"Hey, Cutter. It's ok, kid. Calm down."

"You're alive," he sobbed, clinging to her fiercely. "Oh my god, Claw..."

"Yeah, I'm alive." She gave him a brief hug. "Not for lack of trying. Easy, that prick banged me up pretty good."

The boy released her with visible difficulty, struggling to hold back sniffles. A few tears leaked down his face even as he began to grin shakily.

"Sorry." Cutter hiccuped. " I can't believe you're alive. I thought I was gonna have to...I mean, I couldn't-"

"Don't." Claw ruffled his hair. "I'm alive, and the all-knowing idiot missed a head in his count. There's a kid, too."

"What?" Spike sat bolt upright. "No."

"Yes." The woman managed a strained smile, but it quickly cracked and fell. "Oh my god, ow." She staggered sideways, nearly losing her balance. Cutter's shoulder was under her arm instantly, his face etched with worry.

"We gotta get you back to camp," he told Claw, wiping at his nose with his free hand. "Did it break anything?"

"Right arm," she replied through gritted teeth.

"So boss, what were you saying about wasting Stims? Like hell, it's the same fuckin' difference."

"Not now," Claw begged, allowing Cutter to support most of her weight. "I'm too sore, I'm too pissed. I just want to get back and get some goddamn sleep."

James stood up, and turned toward her.

"I want to travel with you."

Claw blinked.

"No."

"It'll be worth your trouble," he insisted. "I'm a doctor, and despite what happened tonight, I'm damn decent with a gun."

"No," Claw repeated, frowning dully at him. "I'm not a babysitter. No free rides."

"Obviously." James met her gaze firmly. "You won't have to slow down for us, and I won't be needing any of your supplies. Think of it as payment for saving my life. I'd say having a trained doctor along can only work in your favor."

"Doctor, you mentioned that," Claw said. "Know much about headaches?"

"What the fuck...?"

Samuel squinted into the rising sun, certain he was seeing things. A group of people were heading his way, one of them strangely shaped and moving with an erratic limp.

"Hey, Yup!" Spike's grating voice came from the tallest figure, waving one hand. "Get the meds out, the boss decided she wanted to waste a few Stims."

"Fuck you, asshole." Claw's voice was exhausted and strained, but quite alive. Samuel stared at the man behind her, the little girl clutched in his arms, and a badly-limping dog.

"Jesus Christ, what now?" he wondered aloud, making his way quickly to the supplies and retrieving the medical gear. Satchel in one hand and rifle in the other, he trotted over to meet them.

"Samuel, we made some friends!" Cutter grinned shakily, supporting nearly all of the woman's weight. "This is James and Sarah and Dioji."

"Don't shoot him," Claw growled, "says he's a doctor. If he's lying, then you shoot him."

"Well then." Samuel scrutinized James carefully. "What happened out there?" He helped lower Claw to the ground, not taking his eyes off the man.

"Long story short-" Claw drew a sharp breath through gritted teeth, "him and his dog got in the way, took care of most of the pack, then he got himself ambushed by the bastard that wanted to eat me. I killed it, so he's gonna patch me up."

"You brought medical supplies?" James' tone was curt and professional. Samuel handed them over, watching him mistrustfully.

"Sarah, you stay by Dioji. Right by him, understand?"

"Yes, daddy." As soon as she was lowered to the ground, she clung to the dog's neck, watching her father with wide eyes.

"All right," James knelt beside her, "let's get your armor off."

"No," Claw groaned. "Just the arm, it unbuckles under the shoulder."

James frowned. "If you've got any broken ribs, they need immediate attention. There's the possibility of puncturing an organ."

"No broken ribs," she said through gritted teeth. "Just the arm and the head. I know what a broken rib feels like."

Without further comment, James began to remove the sleeve of the armor. Cutter crouched by her shoulder, bobbing up and down with nervous energy. At the sight of her arm, the boy blanched.

The area between her shoulder and elbow was horribly swollen and already turning various shades of black and purple, coated by the dark, nearly-brown red of drying blood. A good portion of the armor was unsalvageable; the wolf's razor sharp fangs had torn it to ribbons.

James pulled out a syringe of Med-X, then gave the end a few sharp flicks. He depressed the plunger slightly, taking out a tiny air bubble, and injected the contents into the crook of Claw's elbow. After a few seconds, she relaxed visibly, eyes sliding shut.

"Oh thank god," she groaned, letting her head loll to the side as James began to examine her arm.

"Well, it seems to be a clean break," he prodded the swollen tissue gently, "you're very lucky. By all rights, the bones should be completely crushed."

"Lucky." The woman snorted half-heartedly. "Fine, we'll call it that."

"Your shoulder's dislocated as well," James continued, "but should be fine once I get it back in place."

"Stop talking about it and fucking fix me." Claw snapped. "I told you, I'm on a tight schedule."

The man pursed his lips. "Cutter, I'll need some help. Hold her shoulders, tightly, please. I don't want to have to do this twice."

After the boy had a firm hold on her, James took her upper arm in a strong grip, and yanked. Claw groaned through gritted teeth as her shoulder snapped back into place with a loud, wet pop. Samuel couldn't help but cringe sympathetically.

She barely choked back a scream when James set her bone. Spike, standing unnecessarily close to the man, scowled with considerable venom and gripped the stock of his rifle until his knuckles turned white.

"Careful, fuckwad," he snapped.

James ground his teeth, but remained silent. Claw glared through one eye at Spike, the other still clenched shut.

"Get out of here, I am not in the mood to listen to your /fucking voice right now. Make yourself useful for a change and start packing."

"Boss, I ain't leaving you alone with this Brahmin's ass." The young man scowled ferociously at the back of James' head. "He smells like trouble and I don't like his fuckin' face."

"Like I'm the idiot." The look she gave him could have peeled paint. "Samuel and Cutter are staying, but I swear to god, if I hear another word out of your mouth I will go completely batshit insane, so go. Fucking. Pack."

Spike shrugged one shoulder, still scowling at James. "This one's gonna be on you, boss."

"Go!" Claw shrieked, pounding her good fist against the ground in fury. Spike's face split into a lopsided grin. He shrugged again, spun on his heel and headed toward the camp.

"Thank you," James said flatly as Spike moved out of audible range.

"Cutter, get me a cigarette," she pressed her left hand to her eyes, "before I shoot myself."

The boy complied quickly, and helped her light it with a few quick strikes of a match.

"Those are terrible for you," James commented dryly.

"So's booze and mercenary work." She exhaled a long stream of smoke. "No one likes a quitter. Go easy on the Stims, I just need it to work, the rest can heal up on its own."

James worked on her for a good fifteen minutes, while Samuel and Cutter kept a wary eye on the pair. The oldest boy didn't trust him, but had decided he at least wasn't lying about having medical skills.

"I'm telling you," the man in question had been arguing with Claw for some time, "a third Stimpak wouldn't be a 'waste'. You're still pretty torn up, I could only stitch so much."

"It's fine," she told him with more than a hint of exasperation. "It hardly even hurts anymore."

"Because you're on Med-X, how many times do I-" James threw up his hands. "Animal bites are a breeding ground for filth. You're begging for an infection."

"I'll clean it up later." The woman gave her elbow an experimental flex, lip curling. "It's ugly, but it works. We already used more than I expected to go through in a week, so leave my Stims alone."

"Seems like a stupid thing to be cheap about," Samuel interjected, equal parts exasperated and incredulous. "I think you've lost it. If you get an infection, we'll be wasting a lot more than one Stimpak. What the hell is wrong with you? First the Brahmin, now a fucking Stim, are you trying to save money or commit suicide?"

"Fuck you, kid," she snapped, "I know what I'm doing."

"Do you?" Samuel took a step forward, his voice rising. "My dad said the same thing, but we haven't been out two days and everything almost went to shit. You're goddamn lucky to be alive," the young man was nearly yelling, "and luck isn't gonna get us to Hudson!"

"Hey, leave her alone!" Cutter was on his feet, fists raised. "It wasn't her fault, that kind of stuff happens all the time out-"

"No," Claw held up a hand, her voice dropping to a whisper. "He's right."

Samuel felt his jaw drop.

"I can't think with these headaches," the woman continued, clutching her eyes, "I've been fucking stupid over and over again, how could I..." She drew a quick breath. "When it goes away, I'll be fine. I just need some sleep."

"Can you describe the pain?" James asked crisply, moving her hand and forcing one of her eyelids open.

"It hurts like an unholy son of a bitch, any other stupid questions?"

The man's eyes flicked skyward.

"Is it in the base, the middle, or the front of your head? Throbbing, steady or stabbing?"

"My eyes and my forehead. Feels like I'm getting stabbed in the eyeball over and over."

"And it's exacerbated by light and noise, yes?"

"Huh?"

James spoke slowly and deliberately. "Light and loud noises make it worse."

"Yeah." Claw scowled at his tone. "Can you do something about it or what?"

"Definitely a migraine." He had finished examining her eye, and pressed the tips of two fingers against the inner edges of her eyebrows. "Do you get them often?"

"I didn't used to. More in the last few months."

"Could be any number of causes." The man began working his fingers in a circular motion, pressing down with moderate force. "Have you noticed any pattern to them?"

"Not really," she replied, scowling ferociously at the contact. "What are you doing?"

"Pressure points," James explained. "There are several more, and it should help alleviate the pain until the Med-X takes care of it. I'm surprised it hasn't helped already."

"Oh, it's helping," Claw said, "but sleeping is the only thing that really gets rid of them."

"You get them more when you get mad," Cutter piped up. "Like when Spike trashed the shack."

"Has your stress level increased recently?" James asked, moving his fingers to her temples.

"I'm constantly stressed," Claw told him with exasperation, "it kind of comes with my line of work. I'm always short on caps, I've got two kids to feed and clothe, and one of them is an idiot."

"Then I'm afraid you're probably going to keep getting them." James dropped his hands. "Can you sit up?"

"Yeah," Claw said, pushing herself up with a grimace. "I think you're wasting your time," she continued as James placed his thumbs at the base of her skull, "It's not doing anything."

"Just give me a minute," he told her, continuing the motions while the woman squirmed uncomfortably.

"I'm telling you," she grumbled as he returned to the base of her skull, "it's not...oh my god." Her mouth went slack, and Samuel chuckled at the look of intense surprise on her face. "It's gone." Her face broke into a wide grin. "It's fucking gone!"

"Excellent." James made one more round on her head, and Claw was considerably more still through the process. "Now," he gave her a stern look, "how about that third Stimpak?"

Claw ground her teeth and scowled at him. "Fine," she snapped, "But I still think it's a waste. I've healed from worse."

"And we're all very impressed." James managed to keep all but the barest threads of sarcasm from his voice. "Now hold still. There's a lot of shredded skin and it's going to itch terribly."

The woman thumbed one of her earrings while he swiftly administered the medicine. She had an odd look on her face, and her eyes kept darting toward James, then down at the ground.

"There we are," the man nodded in satisfaction, "keep it clean and covered for a few days. It shouldn't give you much trouble, just don't scratch."

"I know." Claw prodded the area with her fingertips experimentally, pushed herself to her feet, and nodded at Samuel and Cutter. "Come on, boys. We need to get moving." She gave James a brief glance, unwilling to look him in the eye. "Good luck out there, James. Thanks for the help."

The man rose up as well, hands clenching briefly and instantly relaxing.

"I believe we had a deal to discuss," he said, voice carefully neutral.

"Nope," Claw told him curtly. "If you follow the road, you'll hit the outpost by nightfall. If you go straight south, it'll cut about four hours off the trip. You'd also have to go through Raider territory, so I suggest sticking to the road."

James scowled at her.

"You can't tell me there haven't been countless times you could have used a well-trained doctor. Or do you expect to reach your destination without a spot of trouble?"

"Too late for that," the woman grumbled, picking up the shredded remains of her arm protection. "Here's the way I see it." She finally met his eyes. "I could've fixed my own arm, but you kind of owed me for saving your life. Now I know about the pressure points, too, so we'll call it even and go our separate ways."

"I don't understand." James stared back incredulously. "There's no risk to you. If we can't keep up, so be it. We won't be using any of your supplies, I'm willing to patch you up any time there's trouble, and you get an extra gun. Why?"

"Honestly?" Claw turned and began walking. "My gut says you're trouble, and dipshit doesn't like your face." A smirk twitched at half of her mouth, then instantly fell back to a scowl. "Don't follow me. I catch you around, I'll shoot you."

"We will," Samuel corrected her with a scowl. "I'm having enough trouble with my hired help, I don't need him making more problems." The young man shrugged at James. "Nothing personal."

He followed after Claw, pausing when he noticed Cutter hadn't joined them. He was looking back and forth between Claw and James with increasing agitation, opening and closing his mouth as though he wanted to say something.

"Cutter, let's go," Claw called over her shoulder. "If I don't get back soon he's going to break something, and I'm too tired to handle it."

"We should let them come," the boy finally spoke.

Claw stopped, and rolled her eyes dramatically.

"No," she told him with a tone that brooked no argument.

"Why?" Cutter demanded, voice rising. "Everything he said's true, and we're gonna need a doctor sooner or later. What if something really bad happens? What if-" His voice broke, and he took a quick breath. "What if you're not so lucky next time?"

"I'll lose out on a lot of money." She waved impatiently. "We both know that's not going to happen, so quit fucking worrying so much and get over here. I'm fucking tired, I'm still sore, I'm still pissed, and god damn it now I don't have time to sleep, so I just want to eat something so we can get moving."

"You're not making any sense again!" the boy cried, stomping his foot in frustration. "Tell me why it's a bad idea! Give me one good reason!"

"Because I don't want to get killed in my sleep," Claw snapped, "and I cannot believe you are making me take the time to have this discussion."

"There's four of us and one of him." His voice trembled slightly.

"Two of them." She yanked her thumb at the dog. "That thing killed two full-grown wolves by itself. I don't want it around, I don't want him around, it's too fucking convenient and I don't like it."

"Samuel, please." The boy stared at him pleadingly. "We could really use a doctor and he knows what he's doing, she's just being bitchy because she's tired." Cutter glared at the woman.

"Hell no, kid." Samuel shrugged. He was too tired and aggravated to even feign sympathy. "The dumb broad's right this time. We need to go."

Claw looked absolutely furious, her expression making the boy drop his eyes. "Cutter," she snarled, "get. The fuck. Over here, before I lose the rest of my patience and your face ends up like dipshit's."

Cutter shut his mouth with a snap, face turning bright red. He gave James a long, sad look, then ran toward their campsite, refusing to look anywhere near Claw's direction. She rolled her eyes again and trudged after him, sparing James one final glance.

"Don't follow us," she told him again, voice now hollow and exhausted. "We really will shoot you."

As though he'd understood every word, Dioji began to growl low in his throat. The little girl threw herself around James' legs, eyes wide and frightened.

"You don't hurt my daddy, lady! You leave him alone!"

"I don't wanna shoot anyone, kid." Claw's frown grew more sad than angry. "So you make sure your daddy heads for the outpost, huh? Hey, do you know your directions? North and south?"

"Yes," Sarah replied proudly. "We're going north."

"Well you make sure you go south now, ok?" She tried to glare at James, but the effort was half-hearted. "Because we're going north, and I don't wanna kill anyone. I really, really don't. But I've done it before, I'm sure I'll do it again, and it would be awfully stupid to make me when you can just leave."

"Please, listen to the boy," James begged. "Have I given you a reason to mistrust me?"

Claw snorted. "Where do I start? You're too clean, you're too fucking polite, you know too many big words, and you've got a little kid with you." She didn't even bother turning her head as she kept walking. "If I had more time and more people, I might give you a shot, but I don't. So go away."

Samuel shrugged at James, emphasizing the rifle across his back. "Talk to Brian when you get there. He'll be able to help you find some mercs."

The man dropped his head, remaining silent. Samuel watched him for another moment, then trotted to catch up to Claw. She gave him a forced, haggard smile.

"Well. It's been an interesting start to the trip, huh?"

Samuel snorted.

"Yeah. Real interesting. Look, be honest with me, does this kind of shit happen to you a lot?"

She barked out a laugh.

"The near-death experiences? More than I'd like. Mysterious doctors roaming the Waste with kids? Not so much."

"He's trouble," Samuel muttered, glancing back over his shoulder. James hadn't moved, though his dog and daughter were now standing at his side.

"Obviously." Claw waved the young man on. "So let's get some distance between us. If you see him again, give him a warning shot. He did sort of save my life."