By the time we got back, the sun was already lowering, casting long shadows through the streets. The ground here was drier, cracked instead of slick with mud, and the air carried the familiar scent of smoke and salt. It wasn’t home—not really—but it was the closest thing to it.

Lilith walked beside me, quiet as she took in the scene. It wasn’t like usual. The streets weren’t just busy—they were alive.

As we walked further in. People were out—not just moving, but actually doing things. Someone strummed a few notes on an old instrument, off-key but warm, and kids darted between groups, carrying ribbons and cloth, too excited to sit still.

A group of kids sat in a circle, dipping their fingers into a bowl of red paint and smearing it onto each other’s thighs, laughing at the mess they were making. Across from them, an older man was tying scraps of fabric between two buildings, letting them hang like makeshift banners.

Lilith looked confused. “What’s going on?”

I glanced at her. “It’s Nation Day soon.”

She frowned. “Nation Day?”

I nodded. “People are getting ready.”

“I’ve never heard of it,” she admitted after a moment.

I wasn’t surprised. “You wouldn’t have. They don’t celebrate it in the Golden land.”

Lilith gave me a sideways look. “So what is it, then?”

I exhaled, watching as someone passed by with a handful of red paint and cloth. “It’s… a day for us. For Wastelanders.”

“It’s a day to remember.”

“A long time ago, things were worse,” I continued. “Officers could do whatever they wanted to us. No consequences. They used to carry sticks—not for defense, just to beat people whenever they felt like it. Not to kill, just to hurt.” I glanced at her. “Mostly on the thighs. That way, people could still work.”

Lilith’s jaw tightened slightly. But she didn’t look shocked.

“One day, people had enough. They refused to work. It was supposed to be a peaceful protest. But the officers didn’t see it that way.” I didn’t go into detail. I didn’t need to. “A lot of people died.”

Lilith’s gaze flicked around the town again, this time slower.

I sighed, shifting my weight. “After that, every year, we remember. We wear the red lines—because we choose to. Not because they put them there.” I gestured toward the streets, where kids ran past, laughing. “We don’t fight on Nation Day. We don’t work, either. We just… exist. Together.”

Lilith was quiet for a long moment. Then, finally, she spoke.

“I never knew.”

There wasn’t judgment in her voice. Just something thoughtful. Something that felt… careful.

I looked over to her. “A reminder. But also a celebration. We survived.”

“So what do you do on Nation Day?” she asked.

“We gather,” I said. “No work. As little violence as possible. There’s food, even if it’s not much. Music. And for one night, even enemies put everything aside and dance together.”

Ahead, a few officers stood watching, arms crossed, looking unpleased. They wouldn’t interfere—not unless someone gave them a reason.

Lilith’s eyes lingered on them. “They don’t like it, do they?”

“No,” I admitted. “But the can’t really do much either way.”

We kept walking, past people hanging lanterns, past a woman showing a child how to paint the red lines onto fabric.

Lilith noticed a woman that was stirring a large pot over the open flame. The smell drifted toward us—something thick, salty, with a hint of spice. It wasn’t much, just some sloppy fish cooked down into a stew with whatever else people could find.

Lilith sniffed the air. “That what you eat on Nation Day?”

“Pretty much,” I said. “People eat sloppy fish all the time. But not like this. Not together. Normally, you just eat whatever you can, whenever you can. But on Nation Day, everyone eats at the same time. Same food, same place.” I gestured to the growing crowd. “For once, no one’s alone.”

Her brows raised slightly. “Everyone?”

I smirked. “It’s the one day we don’t fight over food.”

She hummed, watching as a few kids ran around.

I glanced at her. “You should come.”

Lilith looked at me, a little surprised. “Come?”

“To Nation Day,” I said.

She hesitated, like the idea hadn’t crossed her mind before.

I smiled towards her. “Stay for the night. See it for yourself.”

She didn’t answer right away, just took in the people, the way they smiled despite everything, the way they moved like—for just a moment—the Wasteland didn’t weigh them down.

After a moment, she exhaled, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “Guess it wouldn’t hurt.”

I grinned. “That’s the spirit.”

She rolled her eyes, but I caught the way she looked at everything again, slower this time. Taking it in.

For once, the Wasteland wasn’t just about surviving. It was about remembering. And for one day, it was about living, too.