Tales of the Wastelander Ch. 50 - Teaser (Patreon)

Samara woke first to the smell of sizzling meat and woodsmoke drifting lazily through the canvas walls of the tent. It took her a moment to remember where she was, and it wasn’t Sanctuary. They were on the road, at a small camping clearing commonly used by travelers, with a stone-ringed firepit and smoothed boulders serving as makeshift seats. Dawn was already well past, sunlight turning the inside of the canvas a warm amber.

Chelsea stirred against her shoulder with a groaning sigh and buried her face against Samara’s breast for a moment before realizing she was awake. Khara murmured something unintelligible, stretching her long limbs as if she had slept through a storm.

For a long moment, all three simply lay together, wrapped in the quiet warmth of contentment. Their bodies were relaxed, unguarded, still humming from the intimacy and closeness of the night before. There was none of the awkwardness that sometimes came after passion — only the ease of familiarity and shared comfort.

Then Chelsea sniffed, eyes widening. “Is someone cooking?”

“Bird,” Khara groaned as she took a deep breath. “Roasted or fried… and my stomach just woke up.”

“That settles it… we’re getting up,” Samara giggled.

They slowly disentangled from the bedding, soft blankets slipping from shoulders and thighs as tired muscles protested the sudden return to movement. The morning air was cool as they dressed, pulling on travel shirts, trousers, and boots, braiding or tying back hair still tangled from sleep. Khara strapped on her belt knife, Chelsea smoothed down her shirt, and Samara tied her cloak loosely, still feeling that dreamy, satisfied quiet that followed a rare night of emotional and physical release.

When they pushed aside the tent flap, the clearing came into view: sunlight dappling through tall trees, dew still clinging to grasses, distant birds shrilling their morning songs. A fire crackled in the ring of gray stones, warm embers throwing sparks as fresh wood smoked gently.

Rayleena and Solena were crouched beside it, turning a large wild bird on a spit with practiced ease. The smell was intoxicating to them, savory, earthy, and wild. Off to one side, Zahn was bending over gear, checking bundles, tightening straps, and inspecting harness leather with a methodical focus that came naturally to him.

Rylan sat nearby on a rock, leaning forward with elbows on his knees, eyes still half-lidded. He looked like a man who had been awake far too early and was now paying the price. When he yawned, he yawned without restraint, a long, jaw cracking one, arms stretched overhead. Rayleena glanced up as the trio approached and flashed a playful grin.

“Well, look who decided to return to the land of the living.”

Samara flushed slightly. Chelsea rubbed at her hair sheepishly, and Khara scratched the back of her neck.

“Sorry. We… slept a little later than we meant to.” Samara replied. Before embarrassment could bloom, Zahn waved one hand without even looking up from his work.

“Don’t apologize for that. Everyone needs a morning like that once in a while. Even we woke later than planned.”

Solena nodded, brushing her hair from her face as she reached for a wooden spoon to baste the roasting meat. “I swear, Sanctuary gets into your bones. Doesn’t matter if you’ve left it or not… that kind of peace rewires you.”

“And here I thought I was immune to relaxation,” Rylan yawned again, bobbing his head in agreement. “Turns out, I am very much not.”

“Considering you hunted at dawn, I think we can forgive you for being half-asleep,” Khara chuckled.

“Don’t remind me,” Rylan muttered, stretching again. “I saw three birds and almost convinced myself they were ducks just so I could go back to sleep.”

Rayleena snorted. “Only you would hunt while sleepwalking.”