What has white legs and a dead horse? Zion!

Tamia sighs to herself as she awakens, sun beaming down on her face. She and Veronica had been stuck in Zion for a while now, the place was way more dangerous than the Mojave had been (If you subtract the bullet she'd taken to the head). Sure it was nice and had more resources than the Mojave, but the abundance in plantlife had led to many more predators being around.

She couldn't remember if it had been her first time seeing a Yao guai, but she hoped it would be the last. The giant bear almost tore her and Veronica apart, if they weren't both expert close combatants then they may have very well been killed. Fortunately they managed to axe, and punch it to death.

By the time they were finished with it she doubted anyone would recognise it as a Yao guai, its body had been pummeled into one huge bruise, and every unbruised part had deep slashes from her axe embedded in it.

The creatures weren't the only inhospitable part of this place though, no, she wouldn't forget those tribal people who'd butchered Jed Masterson and killed the rest of the Happy Trails Caravan Company. She and Veronica had barely made it out of that situation in one piece.

Tamia didn't know why the ambush had been set up, or even if they were waiting for the Caravan specifically. All she knew was that the tribals were not to be trusted.

After she and Veronica had killed a few of the tribals, they'd ran across a bridge and managed to escape after swimming over a river and hiding in some shrubbery. They were fortunate the tribals either didn't want to chase them, or thought they'd be killed by the wildlife.

Tamia glances over to Veronica who's still sleeping like a baby, hugging her sleeping bag like some sort of teddy-bear while drooling. The woman was... Different. Different from most she'd met in the past, her memory was still fuzzy after getting shot in the head, but she was sure she'd never met someone like Veronica before.

She was too care-free, too chipper, and too compassionate for someone who'd lived in the Wasteland all her life. If Tamia didn't know any better, she'd say that Veronica was one of those Vault Dwellers that'd occasionally pop up.

Shaking her head, she gives the woman a nudge with her foot, "Get up, we need to find a way out of this place and back to the Mojave." she urges.

"Just, five, more, minutes." Veronica mutters, probably not evenly consciously so.

Tamia huffs and pulls the sleeping bag out of her friend's arms, causing her to writhe around like a turtle on its back, grasping for what she'd lost.

Veronica blearily opens her eyes, frowning up at the smug look of Tamia, "Fine. I'll get up." she grumbles, sitting up and throwing her robe hood over her head to block some of the sunlight, not to mention hiding the head of hair she was mildly embarrassed by.

The duo quickly packed up and started looking around the region again, finding a whole manner of interesting locations. It'd almost feel like a vacation, were they not constantly being pursued by tribals, bears, and insects.

They were ascending up a hill towards some-kind of ridge that overlooks a good portion of the region when Veronica suddenly stops, appearing to be examining some chalk markings.

The chalk marks were strange yet detailed. There seemed to be some kind of depiction of a horned beast, probably a big-horner. As well as a number of triangles underneath... Eight triangles with two smaller ones.

"Any idea on what this means?" Tamia asks.

Veronica shrugs at her, "Probably just some tribal getting bored and making doodles." she says.

The two continue up the hill and eventually reach the overlook, there were a few bloatflies at the top but they are easily felled by Veronica's Powerfist and Tamia's axe. The view was, breathtaking? Veronica had never seen something so, majestic before. The wasteland was a cruel and harsh place, usually lacking in any redeeming qualities.

"You ever see anything like this before?" Veronica asks.

Tamia just continues staring over the cliff, "I-I don't know? I think so? My memories still in bits and pieces..." she admits.

Veronica doesn't broach the subject, knowing full well that Tamia was already quite wound up over it. Instead, she just points at something in the distance... Eight Big horners with two baby ones. "I guess we know what those chalk marks are now."

"That you do travellers." a voice says from behind them, causing the duo to jump in surprise and turn around with weapons ready.

Before them was a tribal man covered in tattoos and scraps of modern clothing... He wore a baseball cap that'd been modified to suit the leathers and furs that decorated his body. On his hip he had a strange club that resembled a horse attached, with empty bullet shells glued to it in some way...

The man looks at their weapons warily and raises his hands in a pacifying manner, "I'm sorry, I do not mean you any harm... I am Follows-Chalk, one of the Dead Horses that live in this canyon."

Veronica raises a brow and rudely point at him, "Are you one of those guys who ambushed us earlier? Because I'm still itching to punch something."

The man tilts his head to the side, "Ambush? Ah! You must belong to the caravan the White Legs ambushed days ago... I am surprised you still live, the wild here is not so forgiving to outsiders." he says, clearly impressed with them.

"So the ones who ambushed us were called White Legs? Judging by the way you spoke of their name, I doubt you are on friendly terms." she guesses

Follows-Chalk nods, "We Dead Horses are archenemies of the White Legs, they wish to steal our land, and kill our people. We kill any White Legs we see, whether they seem peaceful or not."

"Well that's great and all, but do you know anyway for us to leave this place? The Caravan's been destroyed so there's no reason for us to stay any longer." Veronica says.

Follows-Chalk shrugs, "I do not know the way from Zion to your home, but our leader might..."

"Who's your leader?" Tamia asks, wondering if she'd know who they are... It was obvious Follows-Chalk respected them greatly.

"We know him as Joshua Graham, but I know outsiders usually refer to him as... The Burning Man."