Part 2
The local land was familiar to me. I have been here often, alone and with other Seekers. Maintaining friendly relations with the inhabitants of the Wasteland, ready for dialogue, is the key to obtaining the most reliable information.
Knowing the shortcuts, I managed to catch up with the Ravens and arrived at Terminal 45, almost simultaneously with them. Silence was the first to meet me - no shots, no shouts, no roar of engines ...
And then everything suddenly changed. The former dock of ships, a second ago empty-deaf, was filled with sounds at once - joyful voices, shouts. I approached the settlement, made of battered containers, and marveled at the fair, holiday noise that was heard from there. A few minutes later, the gentle songs of two small violins merged with the voices. The last time I heard the crying sound of this instrument was many years ago, in distant childhood ...
Our allies from Terminal and the Ravens were feasting. I looked into faces and saw smiles, heard cheerful laughter. Probably, then I seemed to them a madman, looking at everyone, like an inhabitant of tunnels, forcibly pulled out under the dazzling light of the sun.
And the children, the kidnapped children, were also there. Emaciated, clad in the colorful robes of the Ravens, they were surrounded by our allies. Sad but unharmed.
Sensing my confusion, the leader of the Terminal asked me to speak to him face to face. We moved away from everyone, and I, accepting the risk of possible betrayal on the part of the allies, gave the reason for my sudden appearance. After carefully listening to me, the local leader just smiled and told me ... He told me everything he knew, and so, in fact, telling my own story from the very beginning.
The settlement of T. has been at war with a large group of raiders for the past few months. Terminal 45 received several alarming messages, but our allies, cut off in everything due to martial law, could not help. Desperate residents of T. hid the children in a nearby bunker and took up the battle, which, unfortunately, was their last.
Birds of prey always flock to the battlefield. The crows also received an alarm and tried to help the settlers, but, like me, arrived too late. Free people could not be called noble wanderers, but they would never leave defenseless children to die of hunger. Taking the survivors with them, the Ravens went to the Terminal, where they completed two important tasks at once - they protected the children and found allies.
As far as I know, the Ravens are now headed west somewhere. They are still easy to find - by the rustle of fabulously expensive handkerchiefs made of real silk, by the traces of hot clashes, by the groans of robbed caravan men. But the Crows don't take lives just like that.
And thanks for that.