Roar, Lioness. Roar

The Open Desert

Coaly stands lookout while the old crone climbs into the back of the jeep. If anyone sees them, or realizes what they are up to, they'll both be slapped in chains. Trout-Mouth doesn't want to be on the receiving end of another punishment. Everyone knows Bellgrave is far more brutal than Rothschild when it comes to discipline. The wounds on her back itch terribly, but she can't scratch them for fear of opening them back up. She longs to put on the leather armor stashed in the back beside the old woman.

The sound of the second wave heading towards Market Town can still be heard in the distance. With them gone, all that remains are those meant to stay behind to monitor and feed the slaves. The old, the weak, the slow. Some have already started robbing their absent peers. Coaly expects Bellgrave to crack down at any moment.

"Time to go, old woman," she says, tapping the side of the Jeep.

"We won't go anywhere if you keep advertising that we're leaving," the bed of the jeep says.

Coaly cringes at the crone's words then hops into the driver's seat. She's only driven one time, when her team leader was too busy fingering her girlfriend in the back.

"I hope the Yellow Sun cuts you both down," she mumbles.

"What was that?" the bed of the jeep shouts.

"Shut-up, old woman!" Coaly calls back.

She starts the engine and someone lands on the hood with a thud. Her brain struggles to see past the rifle barrel pointed at her chest.

"Talking to yourself, Trout-Mouth?" The Lioness growls. "You're a little young for desert madness, yes?"

Coaly raises her hands slowly, sweat pouring from her brow like a cornered swine. She doesn't even entertain reaching for the pistol on her hip. Dressed in a torn shirt and dirty shorts, the huntress is the scariest sight she's ever seen. Looking into her fierce gaze, she wonders how she ever thought she could tame such a woman.

"Don't you shoot her, feral girl," the jeep bed pleads. "We need her to drive this thing."

The Lioness glances over Coaly's shoulder, but her aim never waivers.

"I'm sure I can drive this jeep, old crone."

"I... I can get you through the gates." Coaly flinches under the Lioness's stare. "I wanna leave here as much as you do."

"Put your gun on the dashboard."

Coaly complies without hesitation.

"Let's go, big guy," Latisha calls.

Out of the shadow of one of the last remaining jeeps, Trunk rushes over. Coaly has never noticed just how big he is until this moment, staring up at him.

"Take her gun, put your bag in the back and get in."

He nods vigorously. Doing as he's told, like the good boy he is, Trunk grabs the pistol and throws the heavy sack he's carrying in the back of the jeep. He jumps back at the pained cry from the bed. The Lioness climbs into the passenger seat and straps herself in.

"Get in or I'm leaving you behind," she says. Turning towards Coaly, she smiles. "If you look at us funny or try anything, I'll feed you to The Waste in small bits. Drive."

Trunk gets into the back.

"Where's Dimples?" Coaly asks as she slowly drives toward the entrance. She glances around, not wanting to hit the seedboy by mistake.

"He stopped moving," Trunk says, his voice heavy with emotion.

Not wanting to believe him, Coaly looks from Trunk to The Lioness.