When Klaus awoke in a cold sweat it was still the dead of night, and the fires set about the cave entrance had long since died away to smoldering coals.  The only light came from the throbbing crimson heart of his only companion, the skeletal machine that crouched before the charred earth almost reverently.  The skies were utterly black, too black to even see the clouds blocking the starlight.  It was like the nightmare, a frigid darkness, impenetrable.  The boy tugged his collar up around his neck and snatched a strange metal rod from the ground.  His touch caused one end of it to flare to life, turning red with heat almost immediately.  He jammed it into an old lantern and set the candles inside ablaze before latching it shut and damping the firestick.  The heat from the fire was minimal, but enough to stave off the shudders and chase away the unnatural chill that seemed so eager to choke the breath from his lungs.<br/><br/>His anger was also a potent source of warmth, and it seethed within him until it came hissing out from clenched teeth and he spat into the dark.  Every night it was the same damnable vision without variation.  The gilded woman of fragile glass that decayed at his touch, the horrible shapes and their gibbering speech, and the wolf that abandoned him to their claws and teeth and blades.  It was infuriating,<em>maddening.</em>Dreams had always been a refuge from the unbearable stillness of the wastes, but now some outside force dared to intrude itself upon his mind as though it had the sovereign right to do so.  Though he had taken to sleeping only minutes a day, the habit was wearing upon his soul.  His eyes were bruised, yellowed, and bloodshot from fatique, and his flesh seemed pale as parchment.  His placidity had been utterly shattered by the accursed visions.  A nervous excitement vibrated constantly in his chest, urging him to sleep and quell it so that he might find some measure of peace.  But Klaus hated the dreams too much to give in.  He hated the woman and her frailty.  He hated the wold that promised sanctuary and then left him for the beasts.  To anyone else they would have seemed serene beings, but to the boy they were every bit as despicable as the shades that tore him limb from limb.  They simply had the benefit of looking prettier.  Deception, all of it.<br/><br/>Sensing its master's frustration, Abaddon lurched from its post and over to the boy's side.  The machine stood twice as tall as he did, and his head would have scraped the top of the cave if it had been complete.  As it was at least half of the cranium was missing, leaving a desiccated skull of tarnished metal and two crimson eyes.  It just stood there, staring down.  Expressionless.  But Klaus seemed relieved at the presence, rather than disconcerted.<br/><br/>"Yes, again," he muttered hoarsely.  It felt like he hadn't spoken properly in days.  In fact, it was very likely that he hadn't.  All the days seemed to blur together without note.  Abaddon did not answer.  At least, not out loud.<br/><br/>Klaus heaved himself to his feet, the swinging lantern casting odd shadows on the cavern's walls.  "I'm being led by a hook through the nose, my friend.  The porcelain bitch and her flea-bitten pet won't give me a moment's rest.  They're either desperate or cruel.  Yes, I am going to them," he added, glancing back at Abaddon as he wandered nearer the entrance.  "Clearly they're not going to let up.  Besides, I believe I owe them something.  When I find that wench and her pooch I'm going to break both of them into so many pieces that all the King's horses and all the King's men will just say 'Fuck it!' and go drain a couple of kegs back at the tavern."<br/><br/>He sneered at the gray landscape that greeted him at the edge of the embankment, and the crevice far in the distance.  Copperhead Valley.  Nestled deep within a glorified crack in the ground.  Easily defendable in case of an attack, of which there were probably plenty.  Bandits always tended to enjoy the challenge of assaulting well fortified settlements.  If they actually managed to tame enough of the Copperheads and other indigenous mutants, they might even eventually stand a chance.  As it was though, the Valley was isolated and fairly safe.  Isolated being the key word.  It was likely his name and reputation hadn't spread this far, nor news of the killings back in Mortartown.  Everyone was assumed to be a murderer these days, but an actual confirmation always made people jittery.  Especially if the victims were<em>important.</em><br/><br/>Hocking another wad of spit over the rocks, Klaus turned and went about gathering his supplies together.  There wasn't much packing to be done.  Klaus' packs had been uncomfortable light recently.  Too much time spent on the road.  He hadn't found a trading caravan to steal from in weeks.  Oddly enough he preferred it to having too much; the boy carried everything himself, and too much weight would just increase the chances of dehydration.  He didn't let Abaddon carry a thing.<br/><br/>---<br/><br/>The clouds had broken and the day was done again by the time they reached the entrance to the Valley.  They'd seen no one on the way, and the Copperheads always kept their distance.  Something about Abaddon always scared off wildlife, even the bigger beasties.  Someday he'd have to find out why, but for now Klaus was content to avoid fights instead of slaughtering the ecosystem just to get to where he needed to go.  Unfortunately the machine also seemed to have an uncomfortable effect on<em>people,</em>so Klaus had to cover most of him in tattered rags to create the illusion of a worn down old junk bot.  The last thing he needed was to have to break down the door just to avoid having to go around the long way.<br/><br/>A big clunker of a bus was already pulled in ahead of him, which served to his benefit.  Requesting an entrance was always easier with a crowd.  People tended to be suspicious of loners, especially in such dangerous country.  Everyone was so dependent on each other for survival that it made Klaus nauseous.  Better to retain one's independence, even if it meant sacrificing the company of others.  A very small sacrifice, in his opinion.  Hoping to miss the crowd of travel-weary passengers, Klaus hurried on ahead with Abaddon in tow and found the gatekeeper suspended a good distance overhead on an elevator.  It paid to be wary.<br/><br/>"Requesting entrance, Sir.  For trading purposes."  He rapped his knuckles on Abaddon's chassis.  "Looking to get my Guardbot a bit of a fixing.  Bit of a scuffle with some Copperheads, and I'm not leaving it to chance that he won't quit on me next time the dogs come looking for dinner."