One night in the wastes stands out clearly to me, amidst dozens of others. We'd left the last junktown behind us a few days before, and it was quiet around the fire. It was one of those perfectly clear nights, moonless nights when you could forget how blasted the land was in the glory of the stars spread out above us. There were the three of us still, who had followed her from our varied hovels and meager existences. We'd been talking quietly about the new information we'd gained in that last town, and while the initial excitement at being so close had faded, there was still that pleasant glow of anticipation. We all had our own reasons for following her, but her quest had become our own, simply by virtue of being the only thing we really had in common. It was that sense of common purpose, of fellowship that I remember so clearly. It was likely everything was going to be alright.
It was the last time it felt like that.
