This is very long! Hope you enjoy!

All Who Wander

Chapter One - Princess Wasteland

“Okay,” Digit began as she unfurled a crinkled and badly stained map over the hood of the dented army transport, “You’ll want to keep heading east until you reach Megaton. The locals there will help you out with supplies and point you to the nearest crossing over the Potomac - just tell them Digit sent you and you shouldn’t have any problems.”

The caravan’s leader and his handful of hired guards bent over the map to follow the path traced by Digit’s dirty fingers. The mercs asked her a few questions about the routes safety, and after giving her honest assessment, their captain dropped his cigarette to the ground and put it out under his boot. The acrid smoke mixed with the dust being blown up all around them and disappeared into the blazing sky.

“Doesn’t sound like anything we can’t handle,” he said, “Got any idea how long we can expect to be the on the road?”

“About a day to Megaton,” Charon said from his customary station behind Digit’s right shoulder, “But once you hit the river you’re going to run into some problems that are gonna slow things down.”

The mercenary captain shifted where he stood and gave the ghoul a reproachful glare that suggested he didn’t like the man speaking out of turn. Despite the acidic comments forming on his tongue, he looked back to the woman in front.

“What kind of ‘problems’?” he asked her gruffly.

“Well, now, I don’t know,” she replied with feigned innocence and narrowed eyes, “What kind of problems, Charon?”

“I asked you, not him,” the captain spat. Digit sighed and waved her submachine gun carelessly.

“Look [censored],” she said, “I’m not a very patient person and you’re starting to grind my nerves, so if you and your buddies want to make it to Rivet City in one piece, you’ll acknowledge the ghoul when he’s speaking to you.”

“Hah!” the man scoffed as his hand snaked to his side to reach his own weapon, “You’ve got a lot of nerve threatening the people who just gave you a free ride across the Wastes, girl.”

“And you’ve got a lot of nerve pretending my friend here doesn’t exist. Once you idjits pack it up and get rolling again, there will only be two things between you and raiders that are trailing your ass: him,” Digit said as she gestured to Charon, “And me. Do you really think you can make it to Megaton without a buffer at your back? ‘cause seeing as you’re bad with directions, I don’t think you can.”

“Please!” the caravan head interjected as he jumped between Digit and the bristling captain, “We’re all tired and hungry and frightened. Everyone is understandably on edge, but I promised these people I’d get them to Rivet City safely, so please, we’ll hear anything you have to say.”

“Good,” Digit replied as she stashed her weapon and crossed her arms, “Charon?”

The ghoul stepped forward to stand alongside her and tapped the spread paper with his index finger.

“It’s the bridges,” he explained in a matter-of-fact tone, “Most of them are clear enough for your truck to pass through, but it’s the weight of the vehicle you’re gonna have to worry about. Even if you can find one that hasn’t had all it’s support pillars destroyed, I’d suggest getting those people out of the back and letting them walk across first. That way, if the damn thing collapses while you’re trying to get this rig across, you’ll still be able to sleep at night.”

“The weight, huh?” the captain mumbled, “I guess you have a point.”

“Damn straight he does,” Digit said with a grin, “Worth his weight in caps Charon is. Now, unless you have more business with us, we really need to be on our way.”

The mercenaries dispersed, grumbling, while the woman re-rolled her map. A small line of sweat began to roll down the caravan head’s face as she did so.

“Did you really mean that?” he asked anxiously, “About the raiders?”

Digit tucked the map into the pack on her back and shifted its weight on shoulders.

“It’s likely,” she said truthfully, “My friend here spotted some activity in those hills behind us just before we stopped, but if makes you feel any better, we’ve been expecting that.” She tapped a dingy, leather-bound case at her hip and gave the worried man a reassuring smile. “With any luck, this’ll be enough ammo to make your next trip a bit safer.”

“You’re not going after them are you?!” the man asked her as his eyes went wide in disbelief. Digit frowned a bit at his words and searched the man’s piggy face for something silently. Deciding she couldn’t find it, she turned away from him to face the back of the crowded caravan.

“Somebody has to do it,” she mused with an acid edge, “Might as well be me.”

Charon and the trader watched the leather-clad woman retreat to the end of the line quietly. Once she was out of earshot, the human turned to the ghoul beside him.

“Is she daft?” he asked.

“Nope,” the ghoul replied, “Just different.”

.oO-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Oo.

Angry remarks buzzed in Digit’s skull as she made her way to the rear of the motley travel-train. In addition to the renovated truck, the refugees had collected a few motorcycles and even a small herd of Brahmin; each loaded to the gills with whatever was worth moving through some of the most hostile territory in the Capitol Wasteland.

Worth moving, but not worth fighting for, a mental voice said derisively. The woman bit her lip and kicked a can out of the baked dirt to release her gathering frustration. Cowards…

She tossed her hair and squinted through the sunlight to where some children were playing catch with a scruffy, dark-haired dog. A woman watched them over them with her hands on her hips, calling out warnings whenever one of the young ones strayed too far from the relative safety of the guardsmen and their guns. The children’s happy whoops and easy laughter sounded alien and out of place to Digit, but nonetheless, she found herself choking back the familiar wave of homesickness she tried to tell herself had disappeared. After shaking her head free of surfacing memories, she put her fingers to her lips and blew a whistle.

The frolicking dog perked up instantly at the sound, and after retrieving a tattered tennis ball from a pile of trash, dashed over to his waiting mistress. Squealing kids and the chastising watch-woman chased after him.

“Time to go mutt,” Digit said as she fished the ball out of Dogmeat’s mouth, “Let’s give this back now, okay?”

Dogmeat relinquished the dingy yellow glob and sat back on his haunches expectantly. While Digit wiped the slobbery thing off on her pant leg, the first of the children made his way up to her. The woman groaned inwardly as she prepared for the inevitable.

“You’re leaving?” the boy whined sadly, “Why?”

Digit straightened up and met the child’s pleading eyes reluctantly. Diplomacy had never been her strong suit, and children always made her feel guilty.

“Because,” she said weakly, “I already have a home, and it’s not in Rivet City.”

“Can’t you leave Dogmeat with us?” he complained.

“No.”

“But why?!”

The woman grit her teeth as even more children gathered around her and the animal in question. She tried to think of a reason that a child could appreciate as a little girl buried her face in Dogmeat’s neck.

“Because he’s my friend,” she said finally, “Would you guys like it if you were the only child in the caravan and you had nobody to play with?”

The boy dropped his eyes and dug his toes in the dirt.

“No…” he admitted.

“Then you can understand why I want to take him with me,” Digit finished, “I don’t like being alone either.”

“What about the big man?” the girl piped up.

Digit smiled a little and looked back to where Charon still stood at the front of the caravan.

“Does he look very friendly to you?” she asked.

The little girl shook her pigtails vehemently and drew her small mouth into a line.

“He’s scary,” the boy offered.

“Yes he is,” Digit agreed as she held out the tennis ball, “You want this back now?”

“That’s okay,” the boy said, “You can keep it.”

“Well, that’s mighty nice of you. You sure your mother won’t mind?”

He looked up at her again from searching the dust with a pout.

“My mother is dead.”

Digit’s face fell like she’d been hit with a hammer. Of course it would be a story like that. It always was.

“I’m sorry to hear about that,” she said softly as she crouched to be level with his line of sight, “But I’ll tell you a secret…”

“Okay.”

“My mom is gone, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. She died a long time ago, but I think she’d be proud of me. I bet your mom would be proud of you, too. The Wastes aren’t pretty, but you and your friends are being very brave.”

Digit grinned as the boy puffed up and held his chin aloft valiantly.

“I’m not scared,” he declared, “The raiders are bad people, and mom said bad people come to bad ends.”

Digit dusted her palms with some sand and gave the horizon a cautious scan. “She’s right about that. Dogmeat and I are gonna see to it, okay? We’ll stop them.”

“And the big man?!” the girl asked excitedly.

The woman laughed and scratched Dogmeat behind his right ear, “And the big man.”

.oO-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Oo.

Charon finished off the last of what remained in his water bottle as the sun began to dip behind the ragged cliff edge to the west. Despite the heat waves warping in the distance, he knew it would be getting dark soon - and cold. He and Digit would have to make for cover before the raiders had a chance to catch up. Without the sun’s oppression to slow them down, they’d start moving a lot faster.

He was trying his memory of previous travels for a nearby safe spot when Dogmeat bounded up and lapped at the ruined hand resting across one of his bent knees. Without taking his eyes off the brown expanse of the wastes, he rested his free hand on the animal’s head. The other held his shotgun.

“The caravanners are all packed up now,” Digit’s voice drifted up on the wind from somewhere behind him, “And I’m ready to go if you are.”

Her footsteps approached with soft crunches until she was close enough to put her hand on his shoulder. The contact made the ghoul jerk. Even through his thick leathers, he swore he could feel the surface of her flawless palms.

“Oh - right,” he muttered as stood and slung his shotgun over his broad shoulders, “I was just thinking about that.”

“And?”

“Best bet is slightly north of here - just over that rise. Figure we should hole up before our friends get here.”

“Good call,” Digit said as she tried to spot the landmark Charon was indicating. As usual, she could see no such feature in the filthy brown expanse, but she figured if the man had been a ghoul for long, he already knew his eyesight was better than a human’s. She gave a light sigh that drew his attention.

“You haven’t already gotten attached to these people have you?” he asked quietly.

“No,” she told him as she jerked her thumb towards a blonde-haired girl trying unsuccessfully to keep hidden behind a rock not far from them, “But I think someone’s gotten attached to you.”

Charon’s milky blue eyes flicked over to the child. When she noticed him looking at her, her head ducked down quickly. Despite the meager cover, the sound of girlish giggling made it’s way to the ghoul’s sharp ears. His face contorted in confusion as he looked back to Digit.

“I think you have a fan,” she said with a grin.

“That’s not funny, Digit,” he said levelly.

The woman laughed and threw her arms wide.

“Hey, don’t look at me, man,” she rebuffed, “Maybe if kids didn’t read those stupid comics they wouldn’t be looking for a prince in all the wrong places.”

Digit began trekking in the direction Charon had given, leaving him to contemplate just what the woman’s words were supposed to mean. As if sensing his thoughts, Dogmeat brushed against his leg with a whine.

“We’re a couple suckers aren’t we?” he asked the mangy animal. Dogmeat lapped at his mouth with a rough, pink tongue and eyed the ghoul blankly.

“Don’t worry,” Charon told him, “Your mistress thinks she’s tough, but if she didn’t need our help she wouldn’t keep us around.” He gave Dogmeat a sympathetic scratch and observed the slim figure wandering away from them. “Princess Wasteland needs her entourage.”