Chapter 11: Fallbrook

Chapter 11: Chapter 11: Fallbrook

The carriage rolled to a stop. Daniel heard the driver call out, and then the door swung open. Mac’s face appeared, his beard dusty and his eyes tired.

"Alright, kids. This is where you get off. Fallbrook."

Daniel climbed out first, his legs stiff from sitting so long. He stretched, his joints popping, and then turned to help Lyra. She didn’t need it. She moved with practiced ease, her cane tapping against the ground as she stepped down from the carriage. Her movements were smooth, confident. She had done this a thousand times before.

Mac walked around to the back of the caravan and pulled out a small bag. He handed it to Lyra.

"Your belongings," he said. Then he looked at Daniel. "You have nothing."

Daniel shrugged. "I noticed."

Mac shook his head, muttering something under his breath about weird kids and wasted journeys. He climbed back onto the caravan, and with a final nod, the wagons rolled away, disappearing down the dusty road.

Daniel turned to look at Fallbrook.

It was a small town. Smaller than he expected. A wooden gate marked the entrance, flanked by two bored-looking guards who barely glanced at them. Beyond the gate, he could see a main street lined with simple buildings. Wooden houses. A few shops. A tavern with a faded sign swinging in the breeze. People walked along the dirt road, going about their business.

It was quaint. Quiet. The kind of place where nothing ever happened.

"Welcome to Fallbrook," Lyra said, her voice flat. "The jewel of nowhere."

Daniel snorted. "You really know how to sell a place."

They walked through the gate together, Lyra’s cane tapping a steady rhythm on the ground. Daniel stayed close, his eyes scanning the town. It looked peaceful enough. Normal. After the desert and the monsters, normal was a welcome change.

Then he noticed the stares.

At first, it was just a few glances. A woman carrying a basket of vegetables paused to look at them. A man sitting outside a shop lowered his newspaper. Then more heads turned. More eyes locked onto them. Whispers started, quiet at first, then growing louder.

"Isn’t that the useless daughter of the Prick family?"

"Yeah, what’s trash like that doing here?"

"I heard she was so weak her own family couldn’t stand her."

"Probably came here to die quietly."

Daniel felt his jaw tighten. The whispers were mostly from women. He noticed the way they looked at Lyra. Not with pity. With contempt. With jealousy. Lyra was beautiful. Even blind, even abandoned, she was stunning. And these women hated her for it.

Lyra kept walking, her head held high, her expression blank. She didn’t react. She didn’t flinch. She just kept moving, her cane tapping against the dirt.

Then they passed a group of two men standing outside the tavern. They were rough-looking, with dirty clothes and mean eyes. One of them nudged the other and pointed at Lyra.

"Hey, look at that," the first man said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Isn’t she better off dead? Why hasn’t she killed herself yet?"

The second man laughed. A cruel, ugly sound. "Noble trash. Probably thinks she’s still important. Pathetic."

Daniel stopped walking.

Lyra took another step before she realized he wasn’t beside her. She turned her head, her brow furrowing. "Daniel?"

Daniel didn’t answer. He was already moving.

He crossed the distance in three quick strides. The men saw him coming, but they didn’t have time to react. Daniel’s fist connected with the first man’s face with a satisfying crack.

The man staggered back, his hand flying to his nose. Blood poured between his fingers. "What the—"

Daniel didn’t let him finish. He punched him again.