(A/N: Hi everyone, I am deeply sorry for the delay on this. Life has been absolutely chaotic lately, but I finally rediscovered my writing muscle and am hoping to give it the workout it deserves in the coming weeks. :) )


Keeping to her word, Mila departed from the Lucky 38 early in the morning despite not getting the best sleep the night before. This, paired with a mild hangover had left her in a considerably sour mood, which she half-heartedly treated by chugging half a bottle of water before leaving.

The time on her Pip-Boy read "06:17" as she stepped onto the Strip. Summer was fast approaching, but the air was still crisp. Mila felt the hair on her skin rise even though she was wearing her old Mojave Express duster, which was much heavier than she'd remembered and would be problematic once the temperature rose, but it was a worthy trade-off if it meant avoiding detection from any idolizing NCR citizens or politicians.

In the two months since the battle at the Dam, Mila could count on one hand the number of remnant Legion assassin parties that were making a last-ditch effort to put her in the ground. Without Caesar himself, Legate Lanius, or any of the other top leadership, these bands of survivors were sloppy at best, allowing Mila to make quick work of them. However, she was in no mood to fight any more of those assholes, which was also why she specifically chose to carry her duster.

Freeside was characteristically quiet early in the morning, which made traversing the slums an easier and quicker experience. A handful of Kings on patrol waved as she passed, but the streets were otherwise vacant and lifeless.

The temperature had already risen by a few degrees despite Mila only leaving the Lucky 38 a half hour ago. In another ten minutes, she was past the Freeside gate and walking along the rural streets north of New Vegas.

Mila caught herself staring at all of the man-made landmarks, such as the partially collapsed remains of Interstate 15 that stretched across the northern and western boundaries of the city and the tiny houses and farms spread out for miles in nearly every direction. It was all so fascinating to see the silhouette of the Lucky 38 and high-rises of Vegas behind her, and mountain after mountain in every direction. As Mr. House put it all those months ago, Vegas and the Mojave Valley really were a sight to behold in an otherwise dead and silent wasteland.

She looked to the northwest towards Jacobstown right as the sunlight from the east illuminated snow-capped Mount Charleston, bathing the peak in a blinding glow. The valley itself was soon lit up by the sun, casting the land in a warm, almost ethereal radiance. Heat waves began to creep up from the ruined roads, a telltale sign of the uncomfortable warmth the day would bring.

A silly grin appeared on Mila's face as a thought crossed her mind: this was home. Not Modoc, where she'd grown up. It was here. It was where she found her purpose, met some of the best people she'd ever known, and learned so many new things not just about herself, but the world in which she lived. Whatever it was, the Mojave Wasteland had charm - enough that she risked her life for its future. This trip into Utah meant the return home would be that much more bittersweet.

Mila shook her head to dismiss her excitement, pausing when she realized her headache faded sometime ago, and continued north. She lifted her left wrist to power up the Pip-Boy's radio as a means to break the silence, fully aware that the music would attract any hostile creature nearby.

Not that she really seemed to mind; after defeating Legate Lanius within an inch of her own life, she found herself quickly and completely desensitized to death and any threats of it. Mila had cheated the reaper out of a visit twice now, and while she was convinced she'd gained the favor of some post-apocalyptic deity to have been so lucky, she wasn't intent on continuing this danse macabre.

As she hummed along with the song playing, walking in-step with its tempo and beating her hands against invisible drums, the signal went out again, like it did the night before. Mila grumbled under her breath as Jed Maste-something's voice echoed out a second time. She promptly shut off the Pip-Boy's radio and silently pushed onward, frowning.


After another hour of walking straight north, the landscape sloped upward at an incline as cliffs and trails began to appear. Mila still wasn't entirely sure where this "northern passage" was, but she suspected she was in the right area, standing nearly face-to-face with a huge mountain peak. A path lay straight ahead that looked promising: a well-worn trail that ascended sharply into the mountain before taking a sharp right. As she approached the turn, an unusual sight caught her attention.

Two unmarked graves against a stone wall, side by side… no indication as to who was buried there or for how long. Mila bowed her head out of an odd respect, and took another few steps before stopping at a huge, gaping hole in the mountainside. A cave… maybe this was where she was supposed to be? She shrugged and entered, grateful to be out of the sun.

The sudden absence of light strained her eyes ever so slightly, and when they adjusted, the woman found herself in a straight, narrow cavern that appeared to have been man-made. A few lanterns hung from the ceiling, but their dim light did little to illuminate the tunnel. Five figures stood a few meters in front of her, their individual features impossible to make out. Three spoke quietly amongst themselves, but turned to face Mila as her footsteps echoed louder and louder.

An older, dark-skinned man with an even darker beard wearing tattered overalls over a long-sleeve shirt approached and gave a nod of salutation to Mila. "Howdy, friend. Heard my little broadcast, did you?" He looked her up and down before nodding again. "Yeah… you look the type…"

The young woman's ears perked, recognizing his voice immediately. This was Jed Masterson himself, boss of the Happy Trails Caravan Company. She couldn't help but let out a quiet sigh of relief that she must have been the first person to come here from the broadcast. Jed held out a hand for Mila to shake, his eyes widening in some sort of revelation as she gripped his fist. "Wait a minute, I recognize you! Yeah... You're Alice McLafferty's rising star, ain't you?"

Mila scowled at the mention of that foul, two-faced woman. "I wouldn't say that. Not anymore, anyway." The Happy Trails boss shot her an inquisitive glance. "Long story short, they betrayed a friend of mine, so I reported them to the NCR."

Jed looked at her in equal parts surprise and alarm as he released her hand, deciding not to push the topic any further.

Mila took the opportunity to change the subject. "Tell me more about the job." The old caravan boss cleared his throat and explained the caravan's goal of getting into a place called Zion - an old national park in southern Utah - and making contact with a settlement called "New Canaan".

Simple enough, Mila thought.

"The pay is 25 caps per day - half up front, half on return," Jed continued, "You'll get a bonus if we make it into Zion, plus another bonus if we reach New Canaan. Oh, uh, one more thing," - his expression darkened suddenly - "Don't mention the name 'Joshua Graham' to anyone. Anyone."

Mila blinked in confusion. Why was it discouraged to mention the name of Caesar's first Legate?

Jed seemed to sense her unknowing look and responded, "Just don't. It makes the New Canaanites mi-i-i-ighty uncomfortable, and it scares the britches off the tribals. Don't talk about the Burned Man either, while you're at it. Trust me on this one, it's for your own good."

"Oooooh-kay…" What did Graham have to do with these New Canaanites, or even the tribals? Mila recalled nothing from Caesar's tales of the Legion's origins, despite the man mentioning Joshua by name once or twice. She did remember that the former Legate had been called the "Burned Man" by Legionnaires, but none of it made any sense. She shook it off as a potential superstition before inquiring for more details.

Jed stressed that the trip to Zion would take a few weeks, and since they had no pack brahmin, everyone needed to travel as lightly as possible. "Cass was right," Mila said under her breath.

"There's gonna be lots of those slot canyons, some you hafta walk through sideways," a nasally feminine voice chimed in. Its owner came up behind Jed, revealing a considerably short woman who appeared to be older than Mila, albeit not by many years. Her wrinkled eyes were as dark as her hair, pulled back in a way to frame her square-shaped jaw. The woman scoffed at Mila's blank expression, then introduced herself as Stella, one of the caravan guards for this expedition.

"Jed hired me on for this expedition of his," she continued, "The work suits me. I've tried staying put in one place, but it never works out."

Mila smiled softly as she studied Stella knowingly. "I understand that all too well. Haven't stayed in one place this long since I was in Modoc. Left when I was fifteen and haven't been back since."

The caravan guard let out a dry chuckle, wrinkling her nose. "Grew up in New Reno. I couldn't put that snake pit behind me fast enough. Then, I wound up wa-"

"Enough with the chit-chat for now, ladies," Jed interrupted. "Is everyone ready?" Stella grunted in annoyance and motioned for Jed to step backwards, revealing a large, weathered steamer trunk. "We don't have any brahmin, so we need to travel lightly. Anything you can't stand to lose along this trip, put in that there trunk. It'll be safe as can be until we come back."

Mila patted herself down, remembering what she had strapped on her person: the same silenced .22 she used to kill Benny; his own Maria; an anti-materiel rifle gifted to her by one of the Colonels, she couldn't remember who. She felt confident in her choices, having covered any potential long-range combat as well as stealth or close-range, should the situation ever arise.

"I'm all set," she declared with a little too much enthusiasm. Jed and Stella narrowed their eyes suspiciously, but said nothing. They turned and rummaged through the steamer trunk just as the third member of their rag-tag trio, a young balding man in a vault suit, appeared suddenly in front of Mila. He looked at her through his sunglasses in a way that made her writhe with discomfort. She threw her best glare at him before taking a step backwards, which only made this apparent vault dweller close the distance once again.

"Ricky…" Stella noticed the commotion and called out threateningly towards the man, "Don't-"

"Heeeeeeey, little lady," Ricky greeted lecherously, "Don't be scared to join this caravan! I'll keep a close eye on you… real close." He lifted his arm - bolstering a badly-damaged Pip-Boy - in an attempt to wrap it around Mila's shoulders, only for her to promptly swat it away and retreat from him again. This time he stayed put, but with a lewd smile.

"Do not touch me," Mila spat venomously, earning a shocked yet silent response from Ricky, and a quiet satisfaction from Stella.

A sudden feeling of dread came over her, desperately hoping Ricky wasn't going to be like this the entire time they were traveling. She involuntarily thought back to the first time a man approached her in a similar manner, right after she left her childhood home months before her sixteenth birthday. He'd followed her all the way to Shady Sands, going so far as to corner the girl and try to force himself upon her before some NCR soldiers finally intervened to drag the creep away. The memory still haunted her after all this time, but she reminded herself that she was stronger and more resilient now, and anyone stupid enough to try that again would be blown into oblivion before they could say a single word.

"Mila," Jed called, snapping the woman out of her thoughts, "You sure you're ready to go?" she nodded, suddenly preoccupied with checking her bandoleer to ensure she was adequately equipped with ammunition. Jed let out an affirmative noise as he shuffled through the trunk before closing it. He pushed it along the ground, tucking it into a rocky alcove in an effort to keep the box as hidden as possible for the foreseeable future.

Stella walked past Mila, shoving Ricky out of her way, signaling to the two unnamed guards that they were ready to depart. "Let's go."

"Right," Jed acknowledged, slightly out of breath. "Alright then, let's get moving. We've got a long road ahead of us. Mila," He gestured towards the younger woman as he began walking towards the entrance of the cave, "We do have maps of the roads in and out of Zion, but that Pip-Boy of yours will come in handy too. Check it every so often to make sure we're staying on the trail - the majority of our travel will be spent alongside the old interstate."

Mila nodded again and followed closely behind Jed, shoulder to shoulder with Stella. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Ricky staring at her behind, deliberately stalking behind to check out her back side. Good luck with that view, she thought to herself with a smirk, knowing her thick and heavy duster left a lot to be desired.

The corners of her mouth lifted into a big excited grin as she stepped back into the heat of the late morning sun. "Let's get this show on the road."