Wasteland III: The Edge of Night

by Tadashinfj

Potentially hazardous for the following reasons: ESFPs, dippy eggs, major earthquakes, fluffy parkas, shiny froggos, glowing mushrooms, claustrophobia, oblivious men, conflicted women, many cinnamon twist donuts, innumerable cans of barbecue Pringles, head trauma, gale-force winds, vacuum ash, hiking, secret libraries, cracks of doom, LOTR, reckless trolley drivers, and tubas.

1. In Which Pippin Receives A Text

hello friends!

WELCOME TO WASTELAND III!

i'm so excited for this story Pippin is my favorite OC of all time :)

Please you guys let me know how this is! I'm super excited to write about Pippin's adventures and all the dumb things he does :)

to my TIG fans:

fear not! I'm working on the next chapter of apparent it's just taking a little while!

to the three people who actually read shurikens:

fear not! also working on that one :)

I hope you guys enjoy this story! I hope it'll be even more epic than its predecessors :)

thank you my friends!

peace out!

twelve years ago

"Sing the song, Mommy," Pippin whispered, poking his head out from under the covers.

"Nooo," Kai moaned, rolling over and clamping his pillow over his ears. "Your song is scary, Pippin."

"No, is not," Pippin defended. "Is pwetty."

"I'll sing your song next, Kai," Shani reassured her older son. "Don't worry."

Pippin, still wrapped in his blanket, crawled into Shani's lap, snuggling into her embrace. He stared up at her with huge, sky-blue eyes, curling into a little ball as she stroked his unruly, night-black locks.

"Are you ready to go to sleep, mtoto?" Shani asked, smiling down at her son.

He nodded. "Yes, Mommy."

She cradled his head with one hand, holding him to her chest with the other, and began to sing.

"Home is behind,

The world ahead,

And there are many paths to tread,

Through shadow to

The edge of night,

Until the stars are all alight,

Mist and shadow,

Cloud and shade,

All shall fade,

All shall fade."

"Thanks, Mommy," Pippin whispered, rubbing his eyes as Shani set him back down, tucking him into bed and planting a soft kiss on his forehead.

"Good night, mtoto," Shani said softly as Pippin started to drift off. "Sweet dreams."

As always, Pippin didn't hear Kai's song. He wasn't entirely sure what it was, since he always fell asleep before Shani sang it. That was okay, though—Kai had his song, and Pippin had his.

Shani MacGuffin sang that song to Pippin for six more years, and the last time he heard it was a balmy summer night, the one that Kai was late getting home and then his world shattered.

Pippin remembered the flames engulfing the house, stumbling back up the stairs, the chandelier crashing down and pinning Kai to the floor. He and Saber had waited, and then Kai came up the stairs, and Pippin had tried desperately to hold back tears as they sprinted down the hallway and then jumped, glass exploding into the night as they burst through the window.

He remembered the flash of brilliant light and then the suffocating darkness, the gradual return of consciousness. At first, Pippin hadn't been able to focus on much but the pain in his head, but then it sank in that his parents were gone, and when he realized he'd never hear his song again—not from Mom, anyway—the world seemed to fall in.

After that, Pippin was sure he'd already been to the edge of night—emotionally, at least. He'd voyaged across the vast landscape of his mind to the desolate darkness beyond the excitement that usually occupied his thoughts, consumed by grief for his broken family.

He didn't know that, eventually, he would come to the real edge of night. The perpetual darkness had reigned, in some places, for almost twenty-five years, and Pippin was about to discover the secrets that lay beneath—and beyond—it.

All had faded, but now, the world was ahead, and it was time.

—PEREGRIN—

December 2nd, 2050

Man, I hate alarm clocks.

I grope around for the holographic clock, searching for the button that will turn it off. Finally, my finger touches it, and I press the button, halting the recorded sound of my tuba.

Yawning, I roll over in bed, pulling the covers higher up over my shoulders. It's Saturday—I must have left the alarm on from yesterday. I can sleep for at least two more hours.

Burrowing into my cocoon of fleece and polyester, I immediately fall back asleep, luxuriating in the warmth of the blankets, fully intending to remain here for as long as possible.

But my slumber is cut short about an hour later, when a small, warm bundle of energy flings open my door and leaps onto my back, scrambling all over me. "Pippin! Wake up wake up wake up!"

"Kusho," I groan, burying my face in my pillow. "Go away. Please. I wanna sleep."

A muffled thump reaches my ears, and I glance up blearily to see that Kusho has fallen off the bed. He promptly scrambles back up, sitting squarely on my back and proclaiming, "I want some dippy eggs! And nobody else wants to make them for me!"

"I can't make you dippy eggs if you don't get off," I wheeze. "C'mon, Koosh Ball, please?"

Kusho's weight disappears, and I immediately spring up, tackling my little brother to the floor in a tangle of blankets. Kusho squeals in delight and starts pummeling me, his hits barely causing any pain.

I grab my little brother's shoulders and roll, squishing him under me, but Kusho wriggles out and climbs onto my back, putting his skinny arm around my neck in a headlock. I could easily throw him off, but I decide to let him win, and I slump to the ground, pretending to be defeated.

"Okay, you win," I gasp theatrically, and Kusho releases me. "I'll come downstairs and make you some eggs. Just lemme get ready first, okay?"

"Okaysies!" Kusho says cheerfully, sliding off me and darting out of the room.

I stand up, blowing a lock of hair out of my eyes, and go into the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face to wake myself up faster. My reflection stares back at me in the mirror—sky-toned eyes, skin somewhere between tanned and brown, an absolute rat's nest of unruly black hair, and a five o' clock shadow on my jaw, despite it being nowhere near five o' clock.

Grabbing the razor off the counter, I squirt shaving cream all over my face and shave off the stubble, making sure my skin is as smooth as possible. After all, we wouldn't want me looking like a ruffian, would we?

I comb my hair carefully, ensuring that it looks artfully tousled, and then pull on a sky-blue T-shirt, cargo shorts, and my bright yellow hoodie. Clamping my dark yellow ESFP band onto my wrist, I flash my trademarked "hot" smile at the mirror, then head downstairs.

"The party has arrived!" I announce, stepping into the kitchen with a flourish. "How's everyone doing this fine morning?"

"Hungry!" Kusho exclaims.

"Don't worry, Koosh Ball," I tell him, going to the fridge and pulling two eggs out. "I'll make you breakfast. How're we doing, Saber? Kai? Kona?"

"Fantastic," Saber says dryly, glaring at me over her coffee cup. "I'd be better if you didn't talk to me."

I huff indignantly as I crack Kusho's eggs into a frying pan. Saber Tested last month, and she's been acting more and more like an ENTJ every day. It's starting to get on my nerves.

Kai yawns from the couch, obviously still sleepy. "Kona was throwing up all last night. Naturally, I had to be awake, too."

His wife shoves him, unhindered by her eight-month baby bump. "I didn't force you to be awake, Kai. You were the one who decided to cater to my every need."

Kai's head droops playfully onto Kona's shoulder. "You're right, babe."

I slide a spatula under one of the eggs and flip it, trying as hard as I can not to break the yolk. "How's the baby doing, Kona?"

"She's starting to get cramped," Kona replies. "Kicking all the time and insisting on planting her foot in my rib cage."

"Got any ideas for the name yet?" I ask casually as I flip the other egg.

"We're not telling you, kid, so stop asking," Kona says firmly, and I sigh. I've been trying to coax my niece's name out of Kai and Kona for months, and I should probably give up at this point—they evidently aren't telling me.

"Could you get the toast started, KB?" I ask, and Kusho jumps up, pulling two pieces of bread out of the bag on the counter and shoving them into the toaster. I hope he doesn't burn it— we're down to our last few slices of bread, and we have to go shopping today.

I lift the eggs gently out of the pan and, grabbing a plate out of the cupboard, set them down on it. When Kusho's toast pops up, thankfully unburnt, I butter it, place a fork on the plate, and set it down in front of my little brother. "Breakfast is served!"

"Thanks!" Kusho mumbles around a huge mouthful of eggs and toast.

Saber gets up and pours herself more coffee, releasing the scent of the beverage into the air, and Kai winces. "Saber, what have I told you about coffee?"

She shrugs, taking a sip. "That you don't want it in your house?"

"Exactly. It smells terrible. Couldn't you pick it up on your way to work or something?"

"Not today. It's Saturday."

"It is his house, Saber," I remind my sister, pulling a cinnamon twist donut out of the pantry and shoving half of it into my mouth. "And it really does smell terrible."

"I don't get why Kai gets the house," Saber grumbles, hoisting herself up onto the kitchen island and dropping her voice so only I can hear. "We're Mom and Dad's biological kids."

"Yeah, but Kai's the oldest," I whisper hotly. "He's as much our parents' kid as we are, Saber. Besides, I'm not old enough to own a house."

I look around at the expansive kitchen, the crystal chandelier hanging over the entryway, the grand staircase. It's nearly an exact replica of my childhood home. Momo, my adopted older sister, is an architect, and she found the old plans for the house and started reconstructing it. As soon as Kai turned eighteen, he bought the house—with loans from most of our relatives, of course—and it's almost like it was never gone.

One of the new additions to the house is the alcove at the end of the hall upstairs. Instead of a window, a portrait of our parents hangs above a small fountain, which is lit with soft white LED globes and has real moss and succulents growing on the rocks. It's a beautiful memorial, and sometimes I'll spend several minutes staring at my parents' faces, not wanting to forget what they looked like.

Kai's phone pings, and a second later, mine vibrates in my pocket. Saber and Kona pull theirs out too, glancing at the screens.

"What's going on?" Kusho asks, gulping down the last of his eggs. "Why'd all the phones go off?"

I hurriedly scan the holographic notice that pops up from my phone, hovering in the air. Kusho scrambles over, climbing onto my shoulders and clinging there as he reads.

Dear citizens of San Fransokyo:

I am pleased to announce the initiation of the Wasteland Restoration Program, an effort to restore life to the thousand miles of volcanic landscape that have remained inhabitable for the last twenty-five years. This undertaking will be immense, and I humbly ask for your help.

We are sending teams to various areas of the Wasteland, and I am requesting volunteers for different roles, which include—but are not limited to— cleanup, construction, restoration science, first aid, and air turbine management. Registration kiosks will be set up around the city, and anyone who has Tested is eligible to register.

I will be sending special requests to a select few of you. This is not necessarily a privilege, so if you receive one of these notices, you will need to make an appointment at the capitol building to discuss it with me.

Thank you, citizens. I have faith that, together, we will be able to accomplish this great task.

Regards,

Honey Lemon Hamada, Governor of the City of San Fransokyo

The little red dot indicating a second notification immediately pops up, and I click on the messaging icon again.

This text is different—more personal. It sounds like the Honey Lemon I know, rather than the governor she is.

Hi, Pippin!

I'd like to put you on a specialized team for the Wasteland cleanup. You've been out in the Wasteland before, and you know what it's like out there.

I'll be balancing out the personalities in the group to make sure you can all keep each other in check. You have a tendency to jump into things headfirst, so I'll be putting you with people that can keep you grounded. I want this to be a great experience for all of you!

Would you like to meet later today at 1:00? I can absolutely schedule a different time if it won't work for you.

Thank you! :)

Honey Lemon

I hurriedly text her back, telling her that we can meet at one without even considering what I have to do for the day. I don't think there's anything going on, but I should probably check to make sure.

Cramming the rest of my donut into my mouth, I shake Kusho off my shoulders as he announces to the whole family, "Pippin got a special thingy!"

I stop at the foot of the stairs as Saber asks, "Why?"

"Cause I've been into the Wasteland before," I inform her, folding my arms. "I can be special, okay?"

"Well, I got one, too," Saber says smugly. "And I've never been out there before. So you can't be all that special."

"Wait, then why didn't Kona and I get one?" Kai asks. "We've been on a Wasteland trek before. I mean, it's not like I want to go on another expedition, but that seems kind of hurtful."

"I'll ask when I go," I tell him. "Saber, did Honey Lemon ask you to meet at one?"

"Twelve-thirty," she replies. "We can take the trolley there at twelve."

"But that's like forever before my appointment," I complain. "What am I supposed to do while you two are meeting?"

"Sleep. Or eat. That's all you ever do, anyway."

"Excuse me!" I exclaim. "I'm also a construction worker! And sometimes I play the tuba!"

I turn and stomp dramatically up the stairs, the exaggerated display of anger hampered somewhat by my limp. As soon as I'm out of sight of everyone, I lean against the railing, half-hopping up the stairs.

See, when I was ten, I got mixed up in a sort of revolution, except I was trying to stop it, which seems kind of out of character for me—I mean, I'm definitely the kind of guy who would start a revolution. Anyway, in the culminating battle, I got held hostage by the governor, Abigail Callaghan, but she didn't try to kill me—although I think she was going to if everyone else didn't agree to her terms. Nora—who's like my best friend—attacked Abigail from behind, and her blade slipped. It totally severed the muscles in my upper leg—nasty, right?—and barely missed some huge blood vessel. Thankfully, I didn't lose too much blood, and I got stitched up pretty fast, but it never fully healed.

I don't usually mind my limp—it makes me look all rugged and girls think it's cute—but sometimes it's hard to go up the stairs, and I can't beat Saber in a race anymore. That's rather humiliating, because my little sister is so darn smug about it.

The plasma-screen calendar on the wall of my bedroom shows nothing important for the day, so I add my appointment with Honey Lemon and set an alarm for it. That would be a terrible thing to forget.

Flopping onto my bed, I stare up at the ceiling of my bedroom, from which hang sparkling globes of light. They cast a soft glow over the room, mingling with the sunlight streaming through my arched, stained-glass windows. A sheer, pale gray cloth drapes over my bed, held to the ceiling by nearly invisible threads, and a twisting glass sculpture, reminiscent of a splash of water, is the centerpiece of the room. When I turn the lights out, a full display of the night sky arcs across the ceiling, and I have a secret spiral staircase down to my tiny library, where I like to sit under a warm golden lamp and read. Besides me, of course, almost no one knows about that place—only Momo, who redesigned the house.

A lot of people say my bedroom looks like a girl's, but I just like pretty things. It's not a crime. Plus, it looks really cool, so I don't care what anyone else thinks.

To kill time before my appointment—two whole hours!—I practice my tuba, then get bored and decide to go down into my library. Locking my door so no one finds me, I press the button at the bottom of the glass sculpture and stand back as it grinds aside to reveal the spiral staircase, leading down into the tiny room at the bottom.

I descend the stairs and push the button to close the sculpture, then climb into the chair and open The Fellowship of the Ring. It's a little weird reading a book with my name in it, but I was named after the hobbit Pippin, so it feels like a tribute to my parents.

Actually, my full name is Peregrin Faramir MacGuffin. My parents were huge LOTR fans, but I'm somehow the only kid they used the names for. Maybe if the four babies they lost to miscarriage had lived, they'd have had LOTR names too.

I delve into the story, soaking up the words. I'm not a fast reader, so this book is enough to keep me occupied for several hours.

After an indeterminate amount of time, I hear a loud tuba blast from upstairs—my tuba is locked in my room, so that must be my alarm. It's probably time to leave for the appointment.

I slide the built-in bookmark between the pages of Fellowship and scramble back up the staircase, leaning on the railing as my leg gives out halfway up. When I reach the top, I close the sculpture's pedestal and turn off the alarm.

Pulling my socks and shoes on, I limp downstairs, grab another donut and stick it between my teeth, and hurry after Saber to the trolley station, ready to begin a new adventure.

---

I have to sit on a bench for half an hour while Saber meets with Honey Lemon, which bores me out of my mind. My phone barely does anything to entertain me—one can only play so much Minecraft.

Finally—finally—the door opens, and I leap up, shoving my phone into my pocket as Saber comes out of the office. She sits down primly on the bench, and Honey Lemon pokes her head out of her office. "Pippin! Come on in!"

I step into the office, and Honey shuts the door, gesturing to an armchair in front of her desk. "You can have a seat, Pippin. This might take a while."

The governor sits down behind her desk, and I plop down in the soft armchair, leaning back in it.

"Pippin," Honey Lemon starts, gazing at me over her bright pink glasses. "I know you know that you're being put on a specialized team for the Wasteland cleanup, but I need to tell you where you're going and what you're going to need to do. It's very important."

I lean forward excitedly, bouncing my leg up and down, as Honey Lemon continues.

"I want to send your team to Shadow Valley."

"Shadow Valley?" I gasp, my eyes going wide. "You mean the Shadow Valley? The super-ultra-mega dangerous chunk of Wasteland with rivers of lava and acid rain and humongous red rocks?"

Honey Lemon laughs. "Yes, the Shadow Valley. I'd like to fly you and the team out as soon as possible—right at the new year if we can make it. I'll be giving you all the equipment you'll need, and your team will be as safe as I can possibly make you, so you don't need to worry."

"Worry? Who's worried? I'm not worried!"

This is way cooler than I ever imagined. Going out into the Wasteland is one thing—going out into Shadow Valley is another. I've heard stories of everything Hiroshima Rising faced out there, the terrible fires that spring up at random, the swift winds that hurl chips of obsidian through the air at seventy miles per hour. It sounds awesome.

"What's Shadow Valley like?" I ask.

"It's much colder than San Fransokyo," Honey Lemon tells me. "You'll want to pack warm clothes—if you don't have any of those, I can find you some. It used to be Zion National Park, so it has a lot of red rocks, which is something you don't see on the Plains of Obsidian. Oh—you'll be working near the Sea of Fire, so I'd recommend bringing protective gloves and combat boots."

"This sounds insanely cool," I sigh happily, sinking backwards into my chair. "What else do I have to do?"

"There'll be some paperwork," Honey Lemon says. "You'll need to sign some consent forms, and you'll have to go in for a physical to make sure you're in good condition to go."

I suddenly remember what I said to Kai earlier. "Oh, yeah—why didn't you send Kai and Kona an invite? They've been out into the Wasteland before."

"I thought I'd send them somewhere closer to home," she replies. "Since Kona's so close to having her baby, I don't want to make her work all the way out there, and I'm sure Kai wants to be here when his daughter's born."

"That makes sense. Is anybody in Hiroshima Rising coming?"

The governor sighs. "Most of us can't. Hiro and Momo have their boys to take care of, and Tadashi and I have our kids. Fred doesn't have much going on, but he does keep the whole trolley system running. And…"

Another sigh escapes Honey Lemon's lips. "Pippin, going back to Shadow Valley might be a…a trigger for Hiroshima Rising. My best friend passed away in Shadow Valley, and she's buried there. I'm not sure we could handle being back there—we really didn't have a good experience."

"I'm sorry," I breathe. "That's okay, I get it. Who else is going, then?"

Honey Lemon looks visibly happier. "Well, Saber, obviously, so she can keep an eye on you. I've also asked Nora—I'm meeting her after you're done. Apart from you guys, it's just a few scientists and technicians who specialize in restoration and landscaping. I'm only sending the best, so the group will be small."

She passes a paper over the desk to me. "Here's your packing list. I can only send you out for two months max, so you should get back right before your birthday."

I quickly scan the packing list, which tells me to bring warm clothes, protective gear, bedding, and a lot of snacks.

"Where are we gonna sleep?" I ask.

"I've got state-of-the-art dome tents for you guys," Honey Lemon tells me. "They're very well-insulated, so you should be warm, even in December. I'll also be providing food, but if you want any of your own snacks, you should bring them. And I know how much you like snacks, so I'm expecting at least a suitcase full."

"Absolutely," I agree. "Thank you! This is super epic!"

She laughs again. "I thought you'd like it. Just go straight to Tadashi's office after this—I've got him booked out for your physical."

Honey Lemon stands up, holding out her hand. "Thanks, Pippin. I'm glad to be working with you."

I shake the governor's hand and flash her a smile, then leave the room. Saber is sitting on the bench outside, staring at her phone and looking bored.

"Hey, sis," I say cheerfully. "We're going to Tadashi's office. When's the next trolley?"

Saber doesn't even look up from her phone. "Two minutes."

"We've gotta go, then."

She stands up, but she just keeps staring at the phone.

"What could possibly be more interesting than your brother?" I ask, trying to see what Saber is looking at. "I mean, I get it, I'm not the most fascinating guy in the world, but you could look at me when we're talking, Saber."

"I'm researching Shadow Valley," she snaps. "I've only been invited to make sure you don't do anything stupid, and I intend to do my job as best I can—because if you make me look bad, Pippin, I will personally make sure you are thrown into the Sea of Fire and/or devoured by shadefish."

"Oh, come on, Saber," I say genially, nudging her with my shoulder as we start to walk toward the trolley station. "You wouldn't do that. And what are shadefish?"

"They live in the ash-tainted rivers and lakes. And they have very sharp teeth."

"I didn't know there was any life in the Wasteland at all," I say. "What other animals are there?"

"Some southern Utah species still live in Shadow Valley—they've evolved to survive in the Wasteland," Saber tells me. "Mountain lions, deer, bighorn sheep, you know. Condors, falcons, several species of reptile."

"That's epic," I breathe. "I wonder what they all look like now? Maybe we'll get to see some animals while we're out there."

We sit down on the bench at the trolley station just outside the capitol, but we barely get to rest for ten seconds before the trolley, driven by my uncle Fred, stops in front of us.

"Pippin! Saber!" Fred crows. "Hop in! Where're you guys going?"

"Tadashi's office," I tell the driver, climbing into the trolley car and grabbing onto a pole at the back. "We've gotta do a physical for the Wasteland cleanup."

"Awesome!"

Since it's Saturday, Saber and I are the only ones on the trolley, and so Fred speeds through the streets. I'm hanging onto the pole for dear life and whooping in delight, while Saber remains perfectly calm and composed at the other pole.

We skid to a halt in front of the pediatric division of the hospital, and Saber and I hop off the trolley, thanking Fred and heading inside.

"Hello, Peregrin," says Baymax as we enter the clinic. "Hello, Sabirah. Are you here for your physical examinations?"

"Yep!" I tell the robot, patting him on the stomach. "How've you been, Baymax?"

"I am a robot. I do not feel emotions. But I am functioning at optimal capacity."

I smile. "Good enough!"

Saber and I sit in two chairs in the waiting room for about five minutes, and then Tadashi pokes his head out of a door. "Hey, you guys! Come on in!"

We stand up and follow the pediatrician through the door and down a hall, going into an examination room.

"Pippin, let's have you take a seat on the table," Tadashi tells me, closing the door. "Are you okay if Saber watches? I'm not gonna make you take off any clothes."

"Why not? She's seen worse."

Tadashi shines a light into my ears, then into my eyes. I wince at the bright light, and when it's gone, I try to blink away the floaters. Next is my blood pressure, and then Tadashi presses a stethoscope to my chest, listening to my heart.

"Deep breath, Pippin. In…and out. Excellent."

Next, he tests my reflexes by smacking my knee with a hammer—I don't get why doctors do that—and pain twinges in my thigh as my right leg jerks.

"Sorry, Pippin," Tadashi says guiltily. "I forgot that's your bad leg. You okay?"

I nod. "It's fine."

The doctor has me lay down, and he prods my abdomen, pressing firmly on the soft skin. I can't help but squirm uncomfortably, but Tadashi pronounces my midsection free of issues and instructs me to climb onto a scale.

"A hundred and forty pounds!" Tadashi declares, scribbling the information down on a clipboard. "That's a little higher than the last time you were here, Pippin. Been hitting the donuts too hard?"

"I swear it's all muscle," I insist, crossing my arms and casting a pointed glance at the pediatrician's rounded middle. "And you're one to talk."

Tadashi laughs, patting his stomach. "You'll get dad bod, too, Pippin."

"I will not."

"We'll see about that. Let's get your height checked."

I have to stand against the wall while Tadashi measures me, pulling the marker down until it rests on the top of my head. "Still five foot eight, huh?"

"Yeah," I grumble. "I hate being short."

"It could be worse," Tadashi tells me. "Hiro only made it to five foot six. I think you're done growing, though—you haven't gotten any taller since you were fifteen. Sorry, Pippin."

"You're only done growing up," Saber jibes. "Not out."

"I said it's muscle!" I snap, glancing down at my midsection, which I'm pretty sure looks as flat as ever. "I've almost got a six-pack!"

"No worries, Pippin," Tadashi says cheerfully. "Let's have you get back up on the table—I want to check your leg over."

I clamber onto the table, pulling up the leg of my shorts to expose the scar on my leg. I wince, as I do every time I see it—the scar tissue is paler than the rest of my skin, raised and puckered. It's not exceptionally thick or anything—graphene blades cut super cleanly—but I know it's deep, nearly reaching my femoral artery, and it's almost seven inches long.

Tadashi gently prods the scar, and I only flinch when he presses hard. If I strain it too much, it hurts, and that happens kind of often, especially with my passion for rock climbing.

"Has it been giving you any trouble lately?" Tadashi asks, looking at me with concern.

I shrug. "No more than usual. Stairs are hard, but that's what railings are for, and running's actually been a little better lately—except I still can't beat Saber in a race."

"It's not because of your leg," my sister insists. "It's because you've got feathers for brains and the stamina of a harp seal."

"I do not!"

"Pippin," Tadashi says, dragging my attention back to him. "Your leg's gonna need some extra support if you're gonna go out into Shadow Valley. It won't be able to hold up with such strenuous work."

"What do you mean, 'extra support?'" I ask suspiciously.

Tadashi pulls open a drawer at the bottom of the examination table and takes something out of it—something sleek, black, and shiny. "I'd like you to wear this brace, Pippin. It'll help support your leg and should reduce your limp."

"A brace?" I splutter. "Does it at least look awesome?"

"Let's get it on your leg and see."

I stand up, and Tadashi has me lift my leg and step into the brace. He pulls the contraption up my leg and tightens the straps, then presses a button. The edges of the carbon fiber light up with a yellow glow, and while it does make the brace look cooler, I can already tell I don't like it.

"Do I have to?" I complain. "It's kind of uncomfortable. And it makes me feel, well…"

I glance down, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. "Trapped. I want to have adventures—what if this holds me back?"

"You'll still be able to have fun, Pippin," Tadashi says gently, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Just because your leg doesn't work like the other one doesn't make you unable to do that. I just want you to be able to move around out there."

"Okay," I mumble, shifting my leg experimentally. "Yeah, I get it."

Saber gets up to do her physical, and I sit in her chair, trying to avoid looking at the brace. It does look cool, but it makes me feel so small and frail, like I can't even get around by myself. I feel so trapped, like I have for the past seven years—like something is holding me back, keeping me from reaching something amazing.

As we leave the clinic, I cling to the pole on the back of the trolley, staring out into the Wasteland and vowing that one day, I will rise above this.

I will be free.