“Yes” said Nico, looking thoughtful “We’ll go south”, his parroting taking over the idea, making it his own.
Iak and Ziit exchanged knowing glances; Echo snickered.
Nico, lost in his own thoughts, took another sip, suddenly feeling good about it all - forgetting why he was worried earlier.
The night progressed, Nico’s wenches replenishing food and drink form the rare plenitude.
All were high, including the dogs, looking for scraps on the periphery of the fire’s flickering.
Orpheus took them, as he had many times in the past.
By daybreak each had returned to their own tent, had loaded up and prepared for another long haul.
The wilderness kept them together, as one.
Day drove them apart, but the night brought them together.
Iak rose in the sunroof of his souped-up Landrover.
He gestured in the air, as if receiving divine messages. Face became grim, still as death.
All waited for the signal.
With a dramatic swing of his baton, he pointed south… and all the engines roared into life, consuming precious gasoline.
If no clan was found along the way, they would have to ditch a few of their own.
Dune over snow drift, mountain slope giving way to tundra, until the sun dipped again.
Polar bear ran off on a a ridge, stopping to look back before it disappeared.
Echo recalled how one of those had taken her only son, before they had mastered their techniques.
It was one of Ziits, but Nico didn’t know of it.
This night they would spend by a waterfall, frozen solid.
The sound of liquid flows below, cracking as small pieces gave way.
It was warm… warmer than it had ever been.
Echo pulled of her parka, exposing her skin to the dying sunlight.
Her current mate kissed her shoulder, pinching her butt.
She would have to rid herself of him soon.
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
Iak had already been hinting. Some great power he possessed - magical like those shapes on the bones he threw around, and those carved on his headgear.
Probably dramatics, but he had self-control, and a guileful mind.
Still, she didn’t want to be a second in man’s harem.
Some accidents had to happen, before she made her move. She needed someone who could exploit the clans superstitions under her thumb.
A wolf howled in the distance, calling to its own.
She could relate.
This night camp had been laid out in the center, vehicles creating a metal enclave around a communal bonfire.
Wood was plentiful. Dead forests everywhere beneath the snow.
Fifty strong gathered.
Ziit with his guitar, and Iak with makeshift battery powered keyboard.
Then there was Git, with his bongos, and Turd with his accordion.
Didn’t really know how to play it, but after he had taken it off one of those city-dwellers, they let him play along, pretending he could hold a tune.
City-dweller is what they called clans that were settled down in permanent encampments, rather than roaming bands, like them.
Hated them with a passion.
Always had more than they deserved.
Most often high walls surrounded their city. Garbage collected and piled up to create a barrier.
Couldn’t keep their clan out. They had acquired an old bazooka, a year back, from a clan they regularly traded with.
Cost them five of their slaves, but it was worth it.
That thing had brought them more booty than all the weapons in their possession.
Pezer had figured it out, and was now their expert of demolition. Iak’s right-hand man.
Nico did not like it, but Echo soothed his paranoia with some carefully places massages. The Albino was easily swayed, almost gullible, if not for his paranoia.
Having him as the front-man was part of the clan dynamics.
Nobody wanted center stage, in such harsh environments, when the ‘leader" could be so easily manipulated, and was so naive.
Only danger was his insanity - that madness that exploded from time to time, when his feelings were hurt, or when his manhood was bruised.
When and if they ever found those fabled warmer territories, things would change.
A new, more competent, and sane, leader would have to take over, from this imbecile.
Echo winked as Nico fro a cross the fire.
He smiled delighted by her attention.
‘Yes,’ she thought ’ that idiot had to go’.
but who could she trust in his place.
Who would be hard enough, and still soft to her presence.
It would have to be decided between Ziit, and Iak.