Town of Ossamaris

The sun rises, illuminating the dew clinging to the blades of grass until the meadow shimmers like a sea of mist.
          Halo bounds across the field, the forest shrinking behind her. The island is so close now she can feel it. Each step becomes lighter, lifted by excitement.“  
          I saw a town on this huge island,” she says, throwing her arms wide to emphasize the size, though the gesture is wasted on Rubble hidden inside her backpack. “That must be where all the people went!” 
          “It’s quite possible,” Rubble replies. “They would have safety in numbers there. But…” His voice trails off, uneasy. 
          “What is it?” Halo asks, slowing. 
          “I won’t be able to come with you. As soon as they see me, they’ll destroy what’s left of me.” His voice is small, almost fragile. 
          Halo stops. The truth settles heavily. Entering a town with an android would mean death for them both. She shakes her head with defiance. She won’t let that happen.  
          “I can’t leave you like this,” she decides. “I’ll just have to smuggle you in.” She pats the backpack and starts walking again. 
          “I’m sure that will go well,” Rubble mutters sarcastically. 
          Halo’s stomach growls, sharp and painful. She presses a hand against it with a wince. 
          “Hopefully there’s food on that island of yours,” Rubble adds. 
          From the corner of her eye, movement stirs. 
          “Shh…” She quiets him quickly. 
          A deer emerges from the tree line, its ears twitching. 
          “I don’t think you can catch a deer with your bare hands, Halo,” Rubble says dryly. 
          “Don’t kill my dreams, Rubble,” she whines, eyes fixed on the animal. 
          A shot rings out, echoing in every direction. The deer ahead of her crumples to the ground. Halo crouches low, heart pounding, but there’s nowhere to hide. The thunder of hooves closes in, horses galloping around her in a tightening circle. Dirt and grass whip up under their hooves until she’s surrounded. 
          One rider, a man with long brown hair, reins his horse closer. He lifts his hand in a silent signal, and the others ease their mounts into a still boundary around her. He levels his rifle at her chest. 
          “Who are you?” 
          “H-Halo,” she stammers. 
         “Where is your group?” 
          “It’s just me.” She swallows hard, clutching her backpack straps tighter. 
          If they search me, they’ll find Rubble. 
          The man studies her for a long moment, then lowers his rifle. Slinging it back over his shoulder, he adjusts it’s worn leather strap. “I didn’t think there were any more survivors. It’s been months since we’ve seen anyone.” His voice softens, though his eyes stay sharp. “I’m Commander Thorn of Ossamaris.” 
          “Ossamaris?” she repeats, the name unfamiliar on her tongue.  
          “Yes. The town on the sea. We’ll take you there.” He leans down and extends a hand.  
          Halo hesitates, then grips it. Thorn pulls her effortlessly onto the horse behind him. The circle of riders breaks, hooves clattering as they fall into formation and begin trotting forward.  
          “We’ve destroyed most of the androids that wandered this side of the forest,” Thorn says, pride flickering in his tone. “It’s safer here than in the ruins of Novaterra.”  
          She realizes she left the backpack unzipped and hopes Rubble stays still and silent. Inside, the faint blue glow of his eyes dims as he listens, motionless.  
          “Don’t expect anything to be handed to you,” Thorn warns. His voice is stern, heavy with command. “Everyone pulls their weight.” 
          “I understand,” Halo replies quickly, trying to steady herself as the horse breaks into a gallop.
          They near a raised drawbridge and wave to the lookout. Chains groan as gears turn, lowering the bridge with a slow, clinking rhythm until it levels with the ground. The riders cross, hooves thudding against damp wood. Behind them, the bridge creaks upward again, sealing off the way. They dismount their horses at the gates and walk in. Ossamaris stuns Halo into silence. 
          The city glitters atop the water, at town woven together with canals instead of streets. Sunlight spills across the rippling surface, making the waterways appear like streams of liquid gold. Small boats glide gracefully through the narrow channels, their curved prows decorated with ribbons and charms. 
          She stares wide-eyed, breathless. “This… this is real?” 
          Commander Thorn lifts his chin, proud but measured. “Real as it gets. We’re safe here. Skelloids can’t swim, they sink to the bottom.” 
          Halo listens but forgets to say anything back, too distracted by all the things going on around her. Everything is color and motion. Brightly painted houses rise in uneven rows, their facades washed in coral pink, turquoise, and saffron. Their stain glass window panes shimmer in reflection across the water. Lanterns hang from iron hooks, swaying gently in the breeze. 
          Thorn’s voice hardens. “But don’t get too comfortable. Just because they can’t get in doesn’t mean the danger is gone. Conflict isn’t just monsters, it’s survival.” 
          She nods as they pass by floating market stalls pressing against the edges of the canals. Their canopies are striped and vivid and the merchants under them call out their fruit sales. 
        Some faces are wary, eyes narrowing at the stranger in their midst. Others are curious, even hopeful. Ossamaris breathes through its people: vibrant on the surface, guarded beneath, yet stubbornly alive. 
          “It must have taken years to build all of this,” Halo says. 
          “The length of days and years are different here than they were on Earth,” Thorn replies. “But yes.” The words slowly sink in. If that’s the case, she had been asleep in that pod for a very, very long time. 
          Their boots thud against the worn boards of the dock. There are more of them than she realized in Thorns group. 
         “Halo,” he says, meeting her gaze. “We don’t let people sit idly here. Everyone pulls their weight to keep this community alive.” He says sternly. 
          “Of course,” she answers quickly. 
          “What is your skill set?” 
          “My… skill set?” Her voice falters. She quickly glances at the people surrounding Thorn. Patches stitched onto the survivors’ clothes catch her eye: a red crosses for a medic, blade insignias for fighters, wheat stalks for the cook. She swallows, panic tightening her chest. 
          “I… make herbal remedies,” she blurts the first lie she can think of. 
          There’s a beat of silence, and then a ripple of enthusiasm. 
          “Wonderful!” one man exclaims. 
          “We’ve needed that kind of knowledge for months.” another says. 
          “You could really make a difference here.” They all nod in agreement. 
          Halo forces a smile. “Right.” 
          “Let’s get you set up so you can start,” Thorn says, already motioning her forward. 
          As they turn, Halo’s face crumples into panic. What’s wrong with me? I don’t know anything about herbs! I shouldn’t have lied… but if they think I’m useless, they’ll send me away. I have to stay somehow. 
         They stop in front of a sage green shack and open the door. Inside, a wooden table holds a mortar and pestle, a few bundles of dried leaves hanging from the rafters. Overgrown vines creep through the cracks in the wood, winding across shelves lined with dusty jars. A faded poster peels from the wall, its headline still legible: Medicinal Plants of the Old World. 
          On the table rests a worn leather journal, its edges warped from moisture and time. Halo flips it open, heart pounding. Most of the pages are ruined, the ink bled into unreadable stains, but here and there, a sketch survives. Drawings of roots and leaves, notes scrawled in careful script, names half-familiar. She presses her palms against the book, fingers trembling, sweat beading along her skin. Clinging to it as though it could anchor her.  
          Okay. I can do this. I have to. 
          “This is where you’ll be working,” Thorn explains. “We’ll gather more supplies for you on our next run, now that we know you understand this craft.” 
          “Thank you,” she says softly, every word laced with nerves. 
          What am I doing? I should have said I can cook. Everyone knows how to boil water. They’re going to find out. I don’t even know which plants are poisonous! 
          Halo subtly glances at the exit gate through the window, as if weighing a possible escape route. She quickly dismisses the idea, wanting to belong. 
          Thorn’s voice pulls her back. “We’ll let you check it out. Come outside when you’re done” He and the other men step out of the shack. Only one figure lingers: an older woman with lines of suspicion etched deep across her face. Her gaze drifts to the journal in Halo’s hands, then back to Halo herself. 
           “We lost the last herbalist,” the woman says flatly. “She swore she knew what she was doing too. Her herbs poisoned one of our own and killed him. So we threw her to the Skelloids and watched them devour her.” 
          Without another glance, the woman huffs and slips out, leaving Halo alone. 
          Halo clutches the ruined journal tighter, her palms slick with sweat. 
          You really messed up, Halo…