By twelve, Ash had outgrown the boy people first saw wander into Megaton. His shoulders had broadened, his hands calloused from tools and work. The revolvers never left his side now — twin weights that looked too natural on his hips for anyone to doubt he could use them.
The deputy noticed first.
"You've got sharper eyes than most men twice your age," he said one evening, leading Ash up to the wall. The watchtower was nothing but scrap welded into a platform, but it gave a clear view of the wastes. "Figure it's time you put them to use."
And so Ash became a shadow on Megaton's wall.
The Watch
He didn't hunt raiders or mutants — no one expected that of him yet. But he watched. He marked the movement of scavvers, the trails of beasts, the shifting dust that warned of patrols. He learned to read the wastes like an old map, seeing threats long before they reached the walls.
And when a pair of wild dogs came too close one night, he didn't hesitate. The red flash of his revolver lit the dark, and the threat was gone. The deputy nodded in approval, saying nothing more. That was enough.
The Voice of a Balladeer
The quiet boy became a speaker.
Around fires, on watch shifts, even leaning against the railings of the market, Ash found his tongue loosening. He told stories of his people — not directly, but woven into fables, lessons, tales of wanderers who faced odds and survived.
He spoke with rhythm, with a weight that drew ears. Settlers leaned in, caught between disbelief and fascination. Even the most hardened scavvers found themselves smiling at the boy's words.
The charisma of the Balladeer ran in his blood, and now it began to show.
Moira
Moira noticed.
She had grown too, her hands still stained with grease and her grin still wide, but her eyes lingered differently now when Ash spoke. She laughed too quickly at his sharp remarks, leaned too close when he showed her a scrap project, blushed when she caught herself watching him across the market.
She didn't understand it. Not yet. She only knew that Ash was changing, becoming something harder, sharper, and yet somehow more magnetic.
Ash didn't notice at all. To him, she was still Moira — the girl who filled silence with chatter and pulled him into her wild plans.
The Settlement's Drifter
Within Megaton's walls, Ash was still just another settler, another pair of hands doing work. But the people began to see something else in him, though they couldn't name it.
A steadiness.
A voice that carried.
A boy who spoke like someone much older, who carried revolvers like they belonged to him.
For now, Megaton was still home. But the ember was growing hotter, and everyone who saw him knew it — even if they didn't yet understand why.