With his three wives, ten daughters, and only son loaded with the luggage in the cart hitched to Ketti, Rahm climbed upon the pekiki's back with his musket close to his side. The sun was not yet at its zenith, and he had a long road ahead of him.

The rubber tires were new, he had splurged on them, anything for the safety of his family. And they gripped the unpaved road fantastically.

The wealthier villagers had already left in their motorized vehicles, save Mayor Quid, intent on being the last one to leave. She was a good jest.

The sheriffs and military ensured the civilians got on the right road and that they all had their maps. A few had misplaced them.

Rangers would be acting as escort from the roadsides. Spread out and patrolling large swaths throughout the land around the road, also to ensure no one got lost.

The good board's ears dropped as he heard his children sniff and cry as they left their home. His mates did their best to comfort them.

They would stop only to water and let Ketti graze, also taking the opportunity to eat and perform hygiene. A lighter load for Ketti.

At these times a ranger would seem to appear and make sure they were alright. Being polite and professional before vanishing again.

It was a few hours past midnight when they came over a rise and saw a lit up clearing surrounded by a metal fence beneath looming trees. Hundreds of small domes were laid out in orderly rows.

A line of villagers stretched from its gate.

After another hour or so, they were being instructed by a soldier who spoke in a strained monotone of one who had said the same thing countless times throughout the day.

"Please dismount the animal and unhitch it from the cart, sir," he said as he pulled a number from a pad of paper and stuck it to the side of the cart unceremoniously. He gave a copy to Rahm, not even batting an eye at the musket. "Do not lose this. Your animal will be safely housed, and you can claim your cart and luggage after the examination. Please get in line with everyone else. Next."

The directions were swiftly followed and they found themselves in line with other families before a large structure of combined domes.

"How many in your caravan, sir?" A jest in uniform asked as she levitated a clipboard and gesturing towards a bard beside her who was guarding a series of weapons laid upon a table.

"Fifteen," he answered quickly as he passed his musket off to the soldier.

She nodded. "Please go inside. Do what the medics say then you will be given a house number at which point you may retrieve your rifle."

Throughout this, Molk had been asleep in his mother's telekinesis. His squid hat still firmly upon his head which was snuggled deeply into her mane.

She carried him to their directed medic, a bard in uniform wearing a resperator like the others.

"Dont mind the mask, we've detected nothing dangerous but rules are rules," He greeted her with a kind smile as he opened an empty jar. "Please dont get violent."

"Why would I get vioyeeep!" She muffled a cry of shock as she felt a tugging between her legs.

The medic then lifted the jar, now half full of her milk. He asked for her name and set it on a shelf of other similar samples. A couple other yelps told her her caravan sisters were experiencing the same thing. They had female medics though.

"Five sixths of any village, town, or city is made up of jests," he said evenly as he began examining her with a variety of tools. "That mean we have a few thousand mothers like yourself to go through, and only a few medics. Now, have you experienced any loss of appetite? Trouble holding down food? Discoloration? Fur or mane loss? Trouble nursing your fawns? Fawns complaining about milk quality?"

She answered no to all of them then sat down as instructed, letting Molk lay upon her udder, and he began looking at her ears and top of her head.

"Neither has anyone else," he commented dryly, seeing nothing. "Were you experiencing any before the Thing appeared?"

She thought a moment. "I was having some migraines. I didn't even notice they stopped."

"Interesting." He made a note of that, but didnt appear all that surprised.

He patted the small cot with a hoof. "Please place your son here. I'll try not to wake him."

Moments later the family was together again outside the aid station and gathering their luggage. Musket slung across his back, Rahm had been given the number of the house they'd be staying at.

"Proceed inside once you get there and do not leave until you are called for orientation sometine tomorrow," the soldier quickly instructed them, a voice that barred any arguements. "Amenities have been provided. Next."

House 221 sat in its respectful row. The outside dull gray of concrete, with but a flap of synthetic sheeting to seal the door and windows.

The inside was a textured off white of formed foam with thin pads on the floor and a stack of blankets beside them. There was a small heater and burner pan plugged into the single outlet on the wall. A single lightbulb provided light.

And it was home for the family's forseeable future.

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Hope you enjoy!