Shepard's long-used to early mornings, and rolls up and out of her bedroll without complaint. It's warm for him, then, as she swaps places, and sits out the dawn watch, the sky lightening to grey, then the white-blue just before dawn.
By the time the sun rises, they're up and packed-up, fire buried, and on their way.
The second leg of the journey is uneventful; the first outpost is barely staffed by one overworked medic and her assistant. Leaving half their burden there makes the day's walk to the next an easier way, and the only trouble they find is an encounter with a viper and a few curious predators. Shepard honestly isn't sure if they're native or not, and technically they didn't bother her, or indeed anyone, but that's not the job at hand: anything that prowls around the road is going to find it expedient to make a meal of someone at some point.
Half the pack goes down quick, and the rest vanishes into the distance. The second medical outpost is manned by a single tired-looking nurse with a shaved head under his hat, and a thousand-yard stare to match his isolation. They might've exchanged about four words between them, making the hand-off, but Shepard isn't concerned about social niceties— they're owed a water-ration and a resupply of food from the man's stores, and she takes it with gratitude. Biotics always overpack on the calories.
"Job done," She says, pack light and slack on her back, "Back to base."
Two days out, and if they make good time it'll be just one on the return, a pleasant walk in the countryside, despite the giant scorpions, the Varren, and the bandits. Shepard is more than willing to call it good.
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By the time the sun rises, they're up and packed-up, fire buried, and on their way.
The second leg of the journey is uneventful; the first outpost is barely staffed by one overworked medic and her assistant. Leaving half their burden there makes the day's walk to the next an easier way, and the only trouble they find is an encounter with a viper and a few curious predators. Shepard honestly isn't sure if they're native or not, and technically they didn't bother her, or indeed anyone, but that's not the job at hand: anything that prowls around the road is going to find it expedient to make a meal of someone at some point.
Half the pack goes down quick, and the rest vanishes into the distance. The second medical outpost is manned by a single tired-looking nurse with a shaved head under his hat, and a thousand-yard stare to match his isolation. They might've exchanged about four words between them, making the hand-off, but Shepard isn't concerned about social niceties— they're owed a water-ration and a resupply of food from the man's stores, and she takes it with gratitude. Biotics always overpack on the calories.
"Job done," She says, pack light and slack on her back, "Back to base."
Two days out, and if they make good time it'll be just one on the return, a pleasant walk in the countryside, despite the giant scorpions, the Varren, and the bandits. Shepard is more than willing to call it good.