Glimmer

It was a quiet time in Crossroads.  The sun was setting, the dichotomy of the cold air and blistering sun giving way to the constant cold of night.  A formerly hidden Ravager pack that calls themselves the Godhunters had pushed back the expansionist White Paw tribe, and the roads were once again safe.  The merchant and religious quarters were still abuzz with activity in Crossroads over this news and talk of the Skyfall that was still fresh in everyone’s mind.  Carmine took a deep drink of the fermented fruit beverage he had bought at the tavern and sighed.  Say what you will about winter, but the decrease in husk and hostile Ravager activity made the cold worth bearing.  From his seat atop his Leatherhorn he observed the night sky, the sky that it seemed only yesterday had turned red like the blood of armageddon.  Only the Counselors were out now, the Moon long having taken her leave beyond the western horizon.  A commotion near the south gate reached his ears, likely a late caravan stirring up the Ravager peace-men.  He was about to go back to his drink when he stopped.  Not only was the commotion traveling rapidly up the merchant road towards the tavern, but it was followed by darkness and a terrible silence.  All around him Crossroads, the jewel of trade in the wasteland, went from a bright and lively settlement to a place of quiet fear.  Lanterns were snuffed out, animals were shushed, and as one the voices of all in the settlement stopped.  Unable to help his curiosity, Carmine slowly stood on the back of his Leatherhorn, straining to see over the tents and canopies of Crossroads.  What he saw caused his stomach to sink in terror.

Tiny twinkling lights in the darkness.