hello, before we get started, im 15 years old and this is my first attempt to write a fan fiction, hopefully i succeed. The boot came stiffly down on the sandy surface, dampening both the vista in the distance and the ground below. This action was not a new one to those of his group and would often be repeated for miles without stop. They were what the privileged called nomads, wanderers, scouring the earth without a wall to protect them from what lay outside. He never knew a life outside of his own as did the people around him. He neither resented nor boasted upon his situation, instead preferring to live in the moment, take care of his basic and only needs. These needs had brought his group to the outskirts of the last great city, the one the songs and tales of his early youth had taken him to. Although he was not quite of age yet, he could handle himself on the frontier. His group however seemed to save him from the serious threats more often than not. He was expected to help defend his group to the death and was one of the few who still had a family left to fight for. His father, who was an expert in hand to hand combat had taught him from an early age the harsh reality of the frontier and the even harsher death of those who tried to change it. his mother, who had been to the mystical city once before had a knowledge of weaponry far surpassing anyone else in the group and had since passed the knowledge down to her son. And his brother, the headstrong protector of the group fought alongside the other elder males, seeking leadership and control. there used to be others as well but skirmishes with the fallen had more than taken their toll and the once daring group took less and less risks as the wild held them under siege. Still however they walked on. The silhouette of hope known as the traveler flickered in the distance, taunting, daring them to press forward once again. They walked in a circle formation, the weak on the inside and the strong making up the perimeter. He was somewhere in between. The rhythmic song of the group’s steps and clattering belongings made each of his steps focused, adding to the symphony of those around him. The score was suddenly cut short by a distant gunshot and piercing scream as his mother, who's hand had he had clung onto moments before, dropped to the ground, plastering his body with blood. The circle broke and the weak became the victim of the fallen while the strong fought back sending bullets of their own downrange. He could not pick a side, he was frozen, once again in the middle, gazing as a fallen captain was walking toward him and his dead mother. His father however, who knew his place to well tackled the creature, using his smaller size to quickly maneuver his way to its lower pair of arms and subdue them with his knees. The creature fought back wildly, shrieking and kicking its legs as it slashed his father’s back with its swords. His father, who looked just as crazed as the fallen underneath eased a knife out of its sheath and slowly depressed it into the fallen's exposed throat, rewarded with the warm blood jutting onto his face and the twitches of his fallen adversary. His victory however was not savored as he fell victim to the fire of a pulse rifle, ripping holes into his already slashed body. Instinctively his son ran to the nearest firearm screaming as he unloaded into his father’s killer. A lifetime had seemed to pass before he realized the assault was over. Ears ringing, he saw what was left of the group looking sympathetically out to him before once again joining in a circle and marching on towards the city. He hurriedly scrambled to catch up with them, taking his father’s place with his brother in the perimeter of the strong.