The Western Front.

Follows-Chalk, or, these days, 'Chalk' as he was called by most tribals, (as he didn't follow much of anything anymore except himself) had been helping fit the large group of warriors with equipment.  Braces, shields, vests.  He wished that the New Canaanites had more to lend, but the Mormons were really stingy with their post-apocalyptic gear.  Not only that, but they were across the Salt Flats, deep in the ruins of Salt Lake City.  There was no way to smuggle weapons, or supplies, or anything when Josiah's army sat right in the middle of the empty land, spying.  

This is why the groups dedicated to the destruction of the Legion had congregated deep in the once-mines of Kennecott, an old facility to the west of Salt Lake.  The sun sat first over the Lake, then over the empty mining areas, and on these mountains and in these caves, Silus trained.  He was still brutal, and if possible, even meaner after all his years separated from the Legion.  Still, a leader was a leader no matter his disposition, and the people who longed to fight against the hated Red Tribe respected Silus.  Even Chalk respected him, having seen his battle prowess many times.  

After he left the Legion, Silus had become sort of a Lone Wolf, not unlike Chalk, who left his tribe for similar reasons.  They were backward, they were afraid of technology, they tried to live through the morals and rules of a world that preceeded the destruction of the earth.  Though Chalk had seen many things he wished he didn't have to see, he never regretted parting from the Dead Horses.  And his guiding light through all of those years was the Salt Witch, a highly misunderstood and intelligent woman.  Chalk knew that she didn't want to build an army just to protect herself, much less the New Canaanites, who she'd only recently learned to stop despising.  The Legion could not move west again.  They had to be contained.  And Utah was far too eastward for the NCR to offer help.  

As he'd done far too often over the past weeks before being sent for Dolly, Chalk made his way out of the cave to watch the sun set over the west.  When he exited the mine and strode across the rocky path, he paused at the sound of something he hadn't heard in a long time.  Music? It was at best a collection of nicely strung notes, not unlike the tribal music Chalk had heard most of his life.  He paused, turning toward the noise, where the mountains overlooked the Salt Palace, the Salt Lake, and the Legion camp in the distance.  Was it possible?  A special grave lay in that direction.  Chalk, noiseless even on the rocky terrain, climbed downward and peered toward the ledge where the cross-shaped marker lay.

Joshua Graham's grave pointed east.  Toward the city.  Chalk wasn't sure, but he thought he remembered a Bible verse about Judgement Day and watching the angels come forward with the golden hue of morning.  The cross was in shadow from the sunset now, the mound of earth undisturbed, the axe propped up almost blasphemically against the cross itself.  And it was here that the music emanated from.  Amazingly, the large figure sitting, at ease and hunched forward with a tribal flute in his hands, and playing a soft tune, was Silus.  

Follows-Chalk smiled when he realized who Silus was, and without any further words, he turned away, walking back toward the west, so he could watch the sun set with the soft sounds of the flute making their way over the mountain and toward the falling globe in the western sky.  

______________________________________

It was past sunset and quickly turning to twilight, and Chalk still hadn't moved.  He was lost in his own thoughts, but the sound of footsteps approaching distracted him.  They were light and quick and barely noticeable.  Still he stood, withdrawing his knife in a flash, and when he turned, he was confronted with Dolly, whose own knife was likewise withdrawn.

"Oh, it's you," he stated calmly, sheathing the knife, but she seemed to hesitate before putting hers away as well.  Chalk noticed she'd cleaned up, though her hair was still wild and fell around her shoulders, windswept.  She wore tribal clothing that showed generous amounts of skin, and he struggled to focus on her face, which of course still wore an angry and somehow mysterious expression.  

"I've decided to do it," she said with a note of triumph in her voice.

"Oh?" He smiled, that genuine and pearly-white smile that gave away just how young at heart he could be when not faced with the brutal extinction of multiple cities.  "That's good, see?"

She smirked, then stepped forward.  Chalk blinked, confused, and then Dolly reared back and slapped him across the face, hard.  His head snapped to the side and he immediately grabbed his cheek.  He spat out forcefully, "Ow wah!! Chin dee, dah ah hi meer?! Geh bits ah."  He only then noticed that his hat had been knocked from his head, and Follows-Chalk scooped it off the dust angrily, brushing it off, as he tried again, this time in English, "What was that for!"

"For taking me captive and drugging me and stringing me on the back of that smelly animal like I'm some...some kind of meat!" she huffed.  Then she balled her slender hand into a fist and shook it.  "Next time you tell me what you're doing and why or I WON'T do anything to help, I'll give Josiah personal directions to your sleeping bed!"

He waved her away dismissively, pushing the hat back down over his head.  "You lived, and you would not have came if I had told you what awaited.  My job was just."

"My fist is going to be just! My whole life has been one kidnapping after the next!"

Follows-Chalk aggravatedly sat back down, determined to finish his sunset in peace.  "Get out of here then!"

Dolly fumed for a moment, trying to decide whether or not to hit him again, and she finally decided against it, storming away.  Behind her, Chalk drawled out, "You come trek all this way up a mountain to hit me, you could have just sent a scout to tell me you're staying to help."  

Something bounced off his head and he yelped, realizing that Dolly had thrown a chunk of clay at him.  "Chin dee!" he yelled again, and turned, ready to start an all-out war, never mind if Estelle needed the girl or not.  When he stood, muttering curses in both Res and English, Dolly had paused, another dirt clod in her hand, and she was pointing toward the west with a slackjawed look.

"What? What is it?" He stared warily at the dirt in her hand, but she looked so concerned he, against his better judgment, turned to stare in the same direction.

"Oh.  Uh oh."

Below, coming from the west, a large group of people walked.  They were very near, and they carried a lot of weapons.  The group was too far away to properly identify, but there were a lot of them.  And they were headed toward the Salt Lake.

Dolly looked at Follows-Chalk, who looked back at Dolly, and they both nodded wordlessly.