Cut the Tension

They gathered around the large table at the far end of the RV.

Jason swept aside a mess of empty ramen cups, loose notes, and half-forgotten scraps of paper. Cassandra helped by stacking books and papers into careful piles, doing her best not to disturb whatever fragile logic Jason had used to organize them. Cody laid out his maps last, sliding the scanned sheets from his folder and aligning them side by side.

As Cody explained the historical layout and shifting names of Moose Track Ridge, Cassandra listened intently. Halfway through, she turned to Jason.

“I’ve got something for you too, hon.” 

She reached into her messenger bag and pulled out a rolled map. Using the plaster cast of the moose track—and her coffee cup—as paperweights, she unfurled it beside the ancient documents.

“I told you I’d done surveys out here,” she said proudly. “This is a CalCom map of the region, back when we were doing shale drill surveys.”

The topographic details sprawled across the table.

“Now let me see these old ones,” she said, eyes not breaking from the map. “Where did you say you found the tracks again, dear?” 

Jason leaned in and reached for a pencil.

She swatted his hand away. “Don’t. I need this for work.” 

He sheepishly pointed instead, marking the location on his own notes. Cody nodded.

“Based on the historical maps,” Cody said, “if there were nesting grounds, I’d expect them to be here.”

Cassandra shook her head. “No. That whole area has a completely different soil structure. It either burned during the Neo-Holocene, or is underwater.” Her finger pointed between the two maps as to emphasize the before and after.

She tapped the table. “Did you bring the samples from the tracks like I asked?”

Jason produced several small clumps. “These were nearby.” 

She took one, hesitated, then touched it to her tongue—immediately spitting it out.

“Yep. Blood soil. I don’t even need my microscope, but if I had it I could show you all the tiny iron snowflakes.”

She traced a finger along the map. “Most of the old forests are gone. But this ridge—your 'Moosetrack Ridge'—there’s been very little exploration past it.”

“You think it’s… in the crater?” 

“No, but I know the crater past the Goldflake zone is likely pristine reforested. Untouched since the collapse times. Whole area is really."

Cody looked at Cassie, skeptical but faintly apprehensive. “That’s a lot of unproven speculation for us to go into the Et Mountain crater.”

“Well, let’s see. Jason, my lamp, can you hand me those animal droppings you found near the tracks?”

She placed them in a jar and added chemicals. As the scat dissolved, a faint trace of gold leached out, forming a shimmering layer around the solution.

She leaned back, satisfied, her hands sliding into her back pockets. “Good news boys, we don’t have to travel as far as you thought. Bad news? We’re doing a lot of off-road travel.”

Jason grinned. “That settles it. We celebrate. I believe I owe you dinner.”

Cassandra punched his shoulder lightly. “You owe me more than that—but I’ll take it as interest.”

The tavern was packed—mostly Sasquatches, Cascadian fringe folk, and no shortage of Amaroks. Ironically, at their table of one Amarok, one moth woman, and one vault native, the one who blended in the least seemed the most unimpressed.

The barkeep nodded, then brightened when he saw Jason. “Doc! Thanks again for helping my pup.” He glanced at Cassandra and grinned. “Didn’t know that was your girl. Back for drilling?”

“Nope,” she said. “Vacation.”

“Well, welcome back to DaMall! Your usual?”

As he moved on, Cody muttered, “Wed Mall.”

“Careful,” Cassandra said. “Don’t out yourself as a tourist. You could pass as a local here.”

Cody bristled. “I’m just saying—it’s a mall. It was only special because it was the only city for hundreds of miles during the Golden Years. After the Collapse, they thawed it out and turned it into a tourist trap.”

Jason cut in. “I’ve worked here for two weeks. Cassandra travels constantly. Talking like that is how you get watered-down beer and spit in your food. Just enjoy it.”

She smiled. “Enjoy civilization while you can. We’ll be in the forest for days.”

Cody grumbled and excused himself, leaving Jason and Cassandra alone.

Jason thanked her quietly for helping with the search.

She huffed, then softened. “Yeah. I’m glad to be here too.”

After a moment, she added almost casually, “I do a lot of work out here. If you find something… maybe we settle for a bit. You write. You do vet work. Maybe this is where we stop running.”

Jason broke eye contact, his face reddening as he struggled to find words. As he paused, holding her hand, a voice rang out behind him.

“So, Mr. Potmack,” a familiar voice with a singsong tone—far more shrill than he remembered—called out.

“You did say your girlfriend was flying in… didn’t think you’d be so precise with your language.”

Jason turned to the vault dweller he had aided earlier that morning. His face remained expressionless, though his eyes refused to break contact.

“My vault has nothing to say about Cassandra, and neither do you, so I suggest—”

“I suggest,” the woman interrupted, her smile tight and hollow, “that you consider the words of our founders: Maintain humanity under five hundred thousand, and guide reproduction wisely—improving fitness and diversity.”

Cassie started to speak, but Jason placed a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m curious,” the woman continued, “did you interpret that as an either/or when you chose to entangle yourself with a mothnest?”

“I didn’t ask,” Jason replied flatly. “The stones also speak of avoiding petty and useless officials, Ms… what’s-your-station.”

“It is always the stray goat that bleats the seventh.”

“I will not be lectured about Cassie by a vaulter so far from hers—nor about genetic diversity by a breeder of pygmy dogs.”

“The founders set us aside from the Great Renewal and you defy them with—ack!”

The woman was left agape as Cassandra turned Jason around and kissed him. His eyes lingered on the furious vault dweller until he finally leaned into it. She stormed off.

“You didn’t have to defend me, my lamp”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I did," Cassie chucked "Do you hear a counterargument?”

They broke their embrace as a banquet of massive lobsters and trilobytes arrived: the bounty reaped from WedMal’s global coast.

Cody returned with mugs of beer and shots of liquor. “I thought we could raise a toast to our old alma mater.”

As though a rite had been invoked, they dropped the shot glasses into the beer and raised them.

“To the College of Wise the oldest college on the continent.”

“To the Old Wise Men of Virginia who kept it.”

“Great and Good!” the glasses clanked together.

They gulped the drinks down in one breath, slamming the mugs onto the table.

“Wahoo!”

Cody and Cassie immediately dug into the platter, while Jason—his stomach more sensitive—picked at the vegetables.

“So,” Cody said after swallowing, “did I miss anything? You two seem in good spirits.”

Jason and Cassandra exchanged mischievous looks.

“Just a spirited debate about single-origin theory,” Jason said. “I argued that Fridgemen share a common origin with mothfolk.”

“Just don’t tell my meemaw,” Cassie added. “She still thinks the Great Sun popped us out of mushrooms.”

Cody wrinkled his nose, pretending he hadn’t read extensively on the topic. “Interesting.”

“What about you?” Cassandra asked. “Do the Amaroq have any origin myths?”

“Just a silly hero myth,” Cody said. “Two pups flee their father and are raised by a lost Yoosonyan princess. They grow up to slay the beasts at the O’Towre.”

He paused, thinking. “I suppose that’s why I came to your neighborhood, Cassie. To be part of the oldest college on the continent. I thought I could be like Dee Sea and Anwai See. Escape and return the Alpha Dog.”

“I wondered that too,” Cassandra said. “I was just a local girl with a lacrosse scholarship. But mothfolk are practical. Don’t consider things unless they work. Premonintins makes us cautious.”

Her cheeks flushed as the alcohol softened her voice. “But, Sometimes I wonder what it’s like to be you. Born with the weight of a lost world. You stare like you’re trying to see it out there. Maybe that’s why you chase your moose. So much lost, to  just want a glimpse of what you left behind.”

Cody, now fully inebriated, laughed. “Funny story about that. He wasn’t really interested in moose when we met. I was doing my own research and we got to talking about large animals. I showed him  Yiuzonian Emperor Ted’s heraldry. I thought it was interesting we could find Huashtong's Eagle, but not The Rustvelt's moose."

Cassandra froze, the color draining from her face. Her smile cracked like glass.

“I told him heraldic creatures are often fabricated,” Cody continued. “Look at Youkay: obviously they have the unicorn, but then they have this weirded bearded cat next to it." 

“You mean this whole damn thing,” Cassandra snapped, “Jason losing his mind to die in the frozen wastes—is your fault?!”

“It’s not his fault, it’s my—”

“It’s your inability to see what’s right in front of your damn face!” she shouted. “Look what you’ve dragged us into, Jason! How much more? What are you even going to do with this moose if you find it? Is this all just a hobby? Am I?”

The argument drew the attention of nearby tables. Cody quickly paid the waiter and stood.

“Let me see if there are any lodgings still available—”

“Oh no you don’t,” Cassandra said sharply. “You’re coming back to the RV with us. We get up early, remember? Jason and I won’t be doing anything—except fighting—and you can join us for that.”