Emilia is hoarding food. I’m sure of it. I don’t know how she hides it and I don’t know where. We distributed the contents of Miro’s pack between us and he had no more than the rest of us, most of it scavenged from that warehouse.
We haven’t seen anything like that since. The tracks from the industrial area lead us nowhere and left us there, in barren, open fields. We’re exposed out here, prey to anything that wants us. At least we will see them coming.
The days are long at this time of year. Even in the shelter of our tents, it’s dizzyingly bright, light seeping through every space in the fabric’s weave. Lack of shade is yet another drawback of the plains. But the nights… The nights are glorious. The air is cool and sweet and the stars show us where to go.
I know the Ragers will ruin this too. They will find us and we will be forced to run. I’m not sure Emilia will be able to keep up when they do. She’s getting fat and slow. I don’t want to leave her behind, but I don’t know what else I can do.
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