((Gonna keep it short and sweet, just enough to get the setting straightened out. Muse is suffering at the moment.))
You find yourselves in a crowded, but relatively comfortable concrete bunker. The group you were travelling with found it about a week ago, and the crowding is a small sacrifice when security and warmth is taken into account. It was currently the coldest part of the winter, so the only thing you have to worry about are common bandits, which aren't too much of an issue when they're not using magic. But, fortunately, most bandits don't use magic, even if they have the potential. Whether they don't trust it or are too stupid to know how to use it, most people don't know. It's currently morning, and it feels like it's going to be an especially cold one. The temperature is well below zero at the moment, but it's not very windy. Much of the sounds you hear are barely audible, and the occasional infant crying. The entire bunker has an aura of discomfort, as if the people don't want to be there, but know they have a far better chance of survival there than out in the open. All sorts of people of all different shapes were there, whether they were human or Gennie, but only a few of the fifty or so people there were mages, which were rare anyway. Right now, a hunting party was out gathering food for the group, but it should be back soon.