Sheyla knew she should not be doing this, should not be here, but just like her mother, her curiosity ran deep. Often deep enough to cause issues and get her caught. She could not help it. She had to know! If she was walking her team into a trap; any warning, any errant bit of information could be the difference between all or some coming back. To be honest, the valley looked safe enough from the ridgeline, and it was the only pass for hundreds of miles in each direction. Back when people flew around in airplanes and drove cars everywhere, that might not have been an issue. Now, however, when you were trying to get over two thousand refugees through hostile territory using wagons, horses and feet; that kind of course correction could literally cost lives as well as time. And not to sound as bitter cold as the ground they slept on, they could spare some lives, but not much time. Even though it was desperately cold now, they had been watching the temperature drop steadily every day overall. If they did not find or create shelter soon, there would be many more than a few dead.
  The major issue, she knew, was that Bravo team had come back with reports of signs of much movement through the valley and had spotted quite a few waster patrols. The problem with this kind of fight is that the wasters possessed an uncanny intelligence along with a savagery that your average baboon tribe would envy. It is likely that this group was planning an ambush for the convoy, which can only mean that she and her scouts had somehow given away their position and direction on the way here, and that their route was compromised.
  Sheyla and Marik, one of the newer members of the team who showed great promise in training, might have to make a reconaissance mission to determine a route around the group ahead. She wasn’t sure how she really felt about Marik, he was taller than anyone in her crew with almost twice her own body mass, but seemed to move like a panther through the underbrush, barely disturbing a twig and making no sound whatsoever. Even at rest he gave off the impression of great power, contained but ready to release in an instant. It did not help her confusion to consider that not only did he have a habit of quickly defeating her in hand to hand combat, almost apologetically, but he was also devestatingly handsome. He had a chiseled chin, dark, brooding eyes and a considerate gaze that seemed to wrap its comprehension around anything he chose to focus on. He was the first man in her life that actually caused a little weakness in her knees, “Ha!, so that is what the old biddies meant!”. The conflict came here when she was training him to track, hunt, kill and trap. The closeness that the trainer and trainee must exhibit by necessity made the instructor-student line become bit blurry, especially when she actually felt like a woman for the first time in forever. She cast those thoughts aside to reconsider another day, right now she was busy defying orders and listening to the planning session of Premo and the other group leaders.

  “We can’t just saunter into the heart of this obvious ambush, we don’t even know what they might have waiting for us!!” exclaimed a gruff, gravelly speaker above the din and murmur. That would be Macliff, always outspoken since he was the voice for the majority of the non-fighting element of the convoy. Sheyla had to hand it to him, he took his charge seriously and seemed to have a military mind when it came to tactics. It was he that suggested the distraction attack that had gotten them through the latter half of what was formerly Cleveland. She remembered with a disgusted sort of fondness the explosions rocking the night and 100’s of wild Wasters running towards the column of flame towering 2 stories into the darkness as she and the rest of the survivors made their quiet way around the eastern shore of Lake Erie. She remembered too, the 2 brave members of Charlie that had volunteered to stay and initiate the distraction attack. They would be recorded as heroes when this journey was over..if this journey ended with anyone alive to write about it. “I do not see a way around it, Macliff, but since we DO know they are waiting for us there is no reason we should make it easy for them, right?”, replied Sergeant Domingo. He was in charge of overall military operations and had a brilliant mind in his own right, he continued,”Why don’t we turn the tides on this little ambush and set our own trap?”. “What did you have in mind, Ignacio?”, Premo asked the sergeant. “Well, it is obvious they have seen us and know where we are, they do not seem to be observing us at night when we set our picket and camp. So it stands to reason that they know how many soldiers and scouts we have, wagons, horses etcetera…”. “Yes?”, prompted Premo. “I propose that we set up the heavies inside the covered wagons pointing out to either side, and drive them straight into the heart of the ambush.” Voices rose in protest all around and Premo stood patting his hands on the air in a placating gesture “Quiet down! I am sure he’s not finished…am I right Ignacio? You don’t plan on giving the Wasters our best guns and only wagons for nothing do you?”. “You know me better than that, Premo…no, what we are going to do is camp here one more night and prepare”
  Sergeant Domingo’s plan was passed by a narrow margin with the predictable dissenting opinion coming from Macliff since his people were going to be the ones left with only minimal coverage, but everyone was willing to fight when it came down to it and they had to make it Ottowa, before winter began in earnest. That night the decision was passed to the rest of the group, and preparations were begun.