Still nothing to eat. Still nothing to serve. Bones, scraps and watery soup. . . When will we meet our demise?
A new traveler arrived, hungry and tired. She wanted me to leave the bones in her stew. A quiet anger lingered in her eyes — wild determination, like a starving wolf. I offered her a room, but she declined with a grunt. Marched into the woods, up north, to sleep on the cold, hard ground. A brute. . . she belongs in the wild, anyhow.
LOCATION
Abandoned Hunter Camp