A thick, acrid aroma drifted through the one-roomed cabin like incense, encapturing the two young occupants in its heavy clouds. Adelaide had woken up to black fog and the choking odor of scorched wood. She was blinded by the combination of smoke and her own tears. "For fuck's sake." She mumbled as she struggled to untangle herself from the blanket that lay against the wooden floor. Her head felt as heavy as the smoke around her and every instinct inside her was telling her to bolt out of there. Waving the billowing smoke out of her face, the sound of crackling flames reached her ears. She could make out the sight of smoldering flames, hungrily sweeping across the wooden logs that held up the cabin. Common sense finally clicked in and she hauled her backpack and rifle over her shoulder and gazed around the room, coughing hysterically.

"Elijah!" She called, the roaring flames overwhelming her voice. Adelaide reached around and finally caught an arm. She yanked the sleeping boy to his feet. He staggered and glanced around in confusion, his eyes barely open. He choked on the smoke that reached his nostrils. She hastily picked up his bag and shoved it in his arms. "How the hell were you sleeping through this, you little idiot!?"She cried and yanked him toward the door only to find the inferno wounding itself and blazing out of control. Bolting over to a clearest spot she could find, she began kicking in the wood on the wall with strength a bit unusual for a girl her size, or for any girl. She finally managed to make a sizeable hole. Adelaide grabbed the wide-eyed boy and shoved him through it, "Go!"

Elijah couldn't exactly process much but after a hesitation he pushed through and crawled out on to the outside grass, coughing as his burning lungs finally got a taste of oxygen.
However, the hole wasn't big enough for Adelaide. He could see her trying to get through it but then she seemed to give up. He backed up, swallowing. There had to be another way out. Besides the fact she was his only companion and friend, he wasn't so sure he could survive on his own. Adelaide had always insisted that he could. He was pretty intelligent for his age, having only turned twelve a couple weeks ago. It was a miracle he even remembered his own birthday. Elijah could not remember life before traveling with Adelaide.

Relief filled him as the brunette emerged from the chimney, the house under her crumbling apart. She climbed down the other side and came running over as the dark smoke billowed into the sky. She was quite a bit taller than him, with long wavy dark hair and a pair of brown eyes to match. Her jeans and jacket, as well as her skin, was darkened by soot. "You could have just got an alarm clock or something if you wanted me up early you know."Elijah informed her.

Adelaide managed an amused smirk. "You expect an alarm clock to wake you after you just slept through a house fire?" She asked, coughing. " Let's get out of here before we run into whoever decided it'd be a good day to try to set our cabin on fire." She did a quick scope of the surroundings, carefully letting her gaze slowly run along each and every tree of the forest around them. "Seems like a hit and run. Let's head toward Harrison Bay so we can wash up and figure out what we're doing. Did we lose anything of value?"

" Besides a couple of blankets that looked and felt like someone sewed a bunch of dead rat fur together, nope."Elijah replied, "I kept everything I need in my backpack."

"So did I." Adelaide fixated her gaze upon the horizon as the rising sun splashed the sky with beautiful hues of amber and lavender. The sun was the only thing they couldn't fight back against, dragging them all into another day of living hell.

The cool night slipped down into the boat's cabin as moonshine shown in through the windows. The boat rocked back and forth gently on the water, every now and then giving a quiet little creak.

Isam's eyes flew open, his breath catching in his chest. He laid still in his nest of blankets for a while, listening. There was another creak. His hands trembled as he reached for his gun. There was someone on his boat. The man silently slipped from under his covers, crouching low as he slunk through the dark cabin towards the boat's hatch. He took a deep breath, steeling his nerved, then shoved the hatch open and clambered out. His gun was cocked and ready to face...no one. There was no one there.

Isam was looking at nothing but an empty deck. He let out the breath he didn't know he had been holding and lowered his gun. It was just his mind playing tricks on him again. Ever since the war, he had been this way: pins and needles. Always looking over his shoulder. It was exhausting to constantly worry that someone was there, lurking in the shadows. The toll it took on the man showed.

Since coming to America, Isam had slowly lost weight. He was a soldier, not a hunter. He lived on almost nothing but fish. His eyes had dark bags under them from the lack of sleep, and if one looked closely, they might even find a graying hair or two on his otherwise black head. Depression played a part as well. Isam was alone. He had no one to talk to about his problems, no one to trust, and no one to help him. He had lived the last two years in a strange country, doing his damnest to survive in almost complete isolation. Despite all of his efforts, he was still in pretty bent up shape.

Isam slunk back down into his hatch to lay down again. It was pointless; he wouldn't be able to sleep now. However, recently he had found that he hardly had the energy to do much else but lay around. His body hurt, his joints hurt, and he felt queasy all the time. When he took off his shirt, he looked as though he had been beaten: bruises of all shades and sizes marked his body as if he were made out of banana peal. Isam knew he was sick, but he didn't know what with. The best he could do was lay down and hope it got better, but it never did.

The man crawled back into his bed, staring up at the ceiling, until the sun shown in through the windows. He got up when he heard birds landing on the deck of his boat, probably trying to steal the fish guts/bait that he had left out in a bucket last night. He groaned as he slowly got up and climbed back onto the desk. Isam shooed the birds away, too irritable and tired to even try catching one. He climbed over the cabin's roof and onto the bow to check his fishing lines. Out the multiple hooks he had through out, only one had a fish on it. A big, dark colored catfish flopped rebelliously as he pulled it onto the boat. It was a good two pounds; a decent sized fish for one man. Isam took it and tossed it into an old Budweiser cooler that he had found. He kept it full of river water to keep his fish alive until he felt like eating the. Right now, he wasn't very hungry.

Isam hauled in his anchor and lifted his sails. Today, he would head up the river to an old boat dock to tie his boat. He needed to get off this damn thing for a while.

-The night before-

Quest's blood ran cold as a howl pierced the still air of the night. All around him was darkness, pure and pitch black. He slowly circled around, his bow risen and arrow nocked. Quest silently cursed his bloody head for putting himself in this situation. Al had always told him to only hunt what he could eat, and Quest highly doubted that a scrawny kid like himself could take on an entire deer before its meat went rancid. Nevertheless, the prospect of venison was too hard to pass up, and he had tracked the damned beast deep into the woods. Of course, Quest had forgotten the time, and before he knew it dusk was settling in. By the time Quest realized that the deer had hoodwinked him and escaped, it was far too late to make it back to his tiny shack before dark.

Quest had slept in the forest before during long hunts with Al, but never alone. He was looking around for a nice tree to hold up in for the night when the howls started. They were forbidding and unnatural, a cry no natural beast could conjure. Frozen by fear, Quest awaited more sounds to signify the creature's location, but none came. Could it have left, possibly missed him or gone off to hunt a prey with a bit more meat? Quest could only hope, but he knew that he had to stay on guard. Quest was just about to take a step when the howl came. It didn't come from the sides, or behind him as he had expected, it came from above.

There was no time to react before the beast was on top of him, pinning Quest to the ground with its massive weight. The damned creature could climb trees! Quest looked up to see the second most horrifying image he'd ever seen. A wolf-like monster peered down onto Quest with cruel eyes glimmering with the thrill of the hunt. Its mouth curled up across its face in semblance of a grin, and the beast's mouth contorted to reveal teeth sharpened like razors and made for tearing apart flesh. The monster stared straight into Quest's eyes, its face mere centimeters from his and the smell of rotten meat drifting into Quest's nose. The monster's mouth opened wide and a terrifying howl rippled out, spreading saliva across Quest's face and making his ears ring in pain.

It was as the creature lowered its teeth to Quest's throat that he realized that his arm was free. In one quick, desperate action Quest thrust his hand still holding an arrow towards the beast's face. The arrow pierced through the creature's eye, the tip slicing through the soft flesh with ease. The wolf-like monster reared back, howling in rage and clawing at its face. This was all Quest needed to make his escape, pushing himself off the ground Quest ran from the creature. Spinning around once he was a good ten feet away, moonlight pushed through a gap in the foliage above and revealed the creature.

The monster had the aforementioned head of a wolf, though stood on two legs. It towered high above Quest, around seven or eight feet in height, and its body bristled with strength and power. It was huge, built for speed and strength, a combination that Quest did not desire. On the end of each hand and foot long claws stretched out, the same as sharp as the beast's teeth. There was no way that Quest could outrun a beast such as this, and the only slim chance he had to survive was by fighting.

Reaching around to his quiver to grab another arrow, Quest realized that he had lost his bow. It had been thrust away from his grasp as the beast jumped upon him, leaving him with just a hunting knife against the monster before him. His body shaking, Quest held up the knife and awaited the wolf's move. Lowering its arms to the ground, the beast pushed off and pounced toward Quest. Throwing himself to the side, Quest turned to see the monster fly past him into a tree, knocking itself hard on the head. The beast had the advantage of power and speed, but it wasn't all that smart. Seeing his chance, Quest ran forward, his knife raised for the attack. As Quest neared, the monster flung up its arm, its claws tearing through Quest's clothing and slicing into his flesh. Quest wasn't all that smart either, it seemed.

Quest was thrown to the ground, falling back to a kneeling stance. He had no time to evaluate his injuries, but he could feel warm blood flowing down his belly. The beast towered over him as if gloating, basking in its victory. Reaching down with a huge, furry hand it clutched Quest by the throat and rose him off his feet. Quest could feel his airflow being cut off, his throat constricting. As Quest came closer and closer to the monster, its mouth open in preparation, Quest realized something. He still had his knife. Thrusting upwards, the knife pierced through the monster's throat and its blood gushed out onto Quest. The hand around his throat loosened, and the beast collapsed on top of him. It was dead.

Shakily pulling himself out from underneath the monster, Quest clawed for breath. He couldn't believe it, he had against all odds, survived. Quest's breath became more erratic and heavy as he realized that he could of just as well been killed, a meal to the predator before him. Now that his adrenaline was going away, Quest felt the pain of the wound on his abdomen. Putting his hand to his stomach, Quest winced in pain. It was far too dark to do anything about it now, and Quest had no more energy.

As Quest stood, still dumbstruck over his victory, more howls echoed across the night, though this time farther off. Of course, wolfs hunted in packs. Quest had no more vigor, and he knew that if those beasts found him he'd be done for. If they did, Quest didn't know if he even would try and escape. Stumbling deeper into the woods, Quest crawled under a bush and hunkered down for the night, one that would be filled with fear and unrest.

Striding through the wide streets of Rampart, Marcus Williams carried himself with a weary self confidence. The middle-aged man's battered suit fit him well, and gray hairs were the even of black on top of his head. His face, once handsome, was now wrinkled and covered in tumorous-looking growths. Squinting his eyes against the blowing winds, he walked towards one of the various outbuildings used as housing for the inhabitants of his town.

Various other figures waved at him, and he greeted them in turn. However, his mind was not focused on those around him. Instead he focused on the person he was about to meet with, a certain Amelia Cross. He had quick business with her, mostly something to pass the time until he had to teach his evening class. The woman was well known in the town as a plumber and electrician, and was Head of Utilities for the settlement. She also held one of the five seats in the City Council, representing the Trades Union, and was thus considered the most powerful woman in Rampart. She was also one of his former students; He recalled teaching her for several years fondly. Amelia Cross was a doer, and would accomplish anything her mind was set on.

Reaching the overhead door to her home and workshop, Williams knocked twice before stepping back to await her answering. Amelia responded moments later, pulling up on the garage door and revealing her seemingly trashed residence. The only hints of it being a home were the battered futon and hot plate in one corner, beside a small stack of jarred foods. Consuming the rest of the outbuilding were tables and workbenches covered in plumbing and electronics parts, old tools, and seemingly unrelated knick knacks. Nodding at each other, they both stepped inside, the younger woman leaving her door open. She wore a sweater and a pair of overalls, along with a pair of beaten up boots. Her auburn hair was flat and dry looking, but overall she was more attractive than almost any woman he'd seen since the the bombs had dropped.

Marcus stood patiently while Amelia finished her work on a small electronic, soldering together a number of tiny components. At a glance the elder man couldn't tell what purpose it held, although it appeared to be simple in function. The woman finished quickly, before turning her attention to her former teacher. "How's it going old man? This visit for business, or is it personal?" She asked, turning again to busy herself with some small tasks.

"Well, to answer your first question, I've actually been doing rather well. I'm actually enjoying the weather, I can feel my fingers without having to wear gloves," he grinned, Amelia returning one as she busied herself. "However, this is a business visit, with perhaps some time for a personal visit afterward if you're free."

Amelia raised her eyebrow at Marcus, smirking. "Mister Williams, I always have time for a quick visit from you. After all, you gave me that small stepping stone I need to leap to greatness!" she exclaimed, twirling quickly before settling down to sit on one of her benches. "But if you've got to, we can settle any business we need to. Is it serious?"

"No, I wouldn't say serious," Williams began. "I just need you to have a look at some things. I've been receiving a few complaints about the electricity cutting in and out at the community library, to the point that it's interrupting some student's studies. There's also an issue with the plumbing at the hydro plant.."

Cross groaned, an exasperated look crossing her face. "The hydro plant's plumbing is such a bitch! It's always flooding whenever the river rises even an inch, and it always smells like stagnant water! Why can't you get another poor plumber to work on that damned thing?" she cried. Marcus could only roll his eyes and grin at her antics.

"Amelia, you know you're the only one qualified to deal with the hydro plant. It's the heart of our settlement, and I don't want to take any risks on this," he explained to her, although he knew the woman already knew that. "You're the best I have, you know that. I need both jobs done as soon as possible, preferably starting with the plant." He was met with another obnoxiously loud groan as the woman seemingly dragged herself off her bench.

"Well, I suppose it would be best to save the best for last. Looks like I have a lot of work to do now, I don't think I'll have time for that personal visit. Thanks a lot, boss," she deadpanned, as she began gathering certain tools into a bag and grabbed one of her larger boxes. Marcus could only continue to smile. Amelia truly was one of his star students; One of the few he could count on.

"Don't be a stranger, Cross. Visit more often, it gets boring always sitting in my study. Make sure everything gets done, and I'll see you tonight for the meeting," he called out as he began walking away. He smirked at the exclamation of 'Fuck, that's tonight!?' and continued on. He had to finish grading a number of his student's answers from the previous lesson, and also improve the lesson plans for next week. He would be busy until class time, and then immediately afterwards he had a Council Meeting. Sighing, he condemned himself to a day of paperwork and bureaucracy.

Ulysses was a natural predator. From a young age he had discovered his talent for the hunt. The mutation that grew within him created a valuable asset that his father and brother needed to hunt crocalisks, the gigantic six legged gators that floated along the bayous like ancient biblical leviathans. Early in the morning, while the beasts slumbered, he would slip into the murky waters with nothing more than a knife and wait on the river floor. Sometimes for minutes, sometimes hours. It was only during the hunt that Ulysses found peace. The absolute dedication of one's self to a task brought about a serene calmness that flooded his body with warmth. Even along the freezing river bed his body would burn with anticipation, every centimeter of his skin tingling with excitement for what was to come. Catfish, serpents, and spider-like crustaceans would crawl along him, unaware of his presence, treating him if he were a slumbering gator. Eventually one of the gargantuan reptiles that resembled a gator of the lost world would lazily float above him, its eyes fixated on the surface of the water, its hunt, much like Ulysses, only concerning the creatures that dared fly above it. It was during those moments that Ulysses would drive his knife into the belly of the beast and simply wait. The shock from the action alone was always enough to send the gators into a panic, causing them to swim away, allowing the knife to simply cut alone, spilling its organs into the murky waters.

Ulysses snapped up from his dream of his old life, before his family fell apart, before he was alone. There was little that he still remembered from those times, his long-term memory having rapidly decayed over the past few years. Only shadows of memories remained, though Ulysses was unsure if that were worrisome or not. The pain in his chest when he thought of his family had lessened as the memories began to blur. Perhaps it was a gift those above that he could forget that which caused him pain. Ulysses quickly gathered himself, noticing the man that he had been stalking lately seemed to be on the move. The man was an oddity that drew Ulysses in like moths to a flame, for he was unlike anything he had seen. His skin was neither white nor black, but a soft brown, like tanned leather. It was a mutation that Ulysses had never seen before and it seemed to strange, for it was so very mundane. The strange man's boat was stranger yet, for it had sails, yet it lacked paddles. The man beginning to make his way down the river was almost a blessing to Ulysses though, for it sparked the thrill of the hunt within him once more. Soon he would meet this man and ask him about his strange skin and his stranger ship. Unless the man was mean, like the others. Ulysses wasn't sure he could handle more disappointment. He just wanted to meet another human, make a new friend. Maybe one that knew how to read! One that could read the storybook that bared his name. The book that was protected by nearly a dozen waterproof bags that Ulysses had scavenged from convenience stores.

Ulysses brought his bag and bow over his shoulder and emerged from the derelict home he had been hiding in, chasing after the boat with bright eyes. As he reached the river, without hesitation he dove in sinking quickly to the river bed where he quickly swam along after the boat, hidden beneath the thick murky water that was as familiar to him as the open air. Soon he had closed the gap between himself and the boat and emerged from the water where the anchor sat, grabbing onto it. He tugged carefully, making sure it would not drop him before he pulled at it, dredging himself up from the water. The process of pulling himself up to the deck was slow, though he had his practice climbing things that weren't meant to be climbed. It was just a matter of time at this point. With a sharp breath, he lurched up and grabbed onto the railing, looking over at the dark skinned man with hair black like night. "Brown man, would you help me up?"

Ajairu Jinsoku ran through the trees. His feet hit the branches as he leaped, free-run parkouring through the forest. There was nothing quite like parkour, where he had the freedom to go places others couldn't, outrun the mutants, and survive. He was running away from what he called the 'Bilkimono', basically bees that had been muated into the size of bears, and wouldn't die from their stings, which would almost always cause death. He suddenly turned around as he ran and pulled out his desert eagle, and shot then in the stomach area of the bee. They barely flinched, and flew forward, but couldn't get a good sting on him, so they directly attacked him with teeth and arms. He got bit on the arm, and winced, but continued to run.

He leaped and they followed, his gun was out of ammo. His rifle only really worked well for him at long-range, and so he pulled out his two katanas, and leaped onto the Bilkimono. His legs wrapped around it's head, and it couldn't bite. Even at the bee's size, it's arms were basiclly useless, still, except for carrying away bodies of small animals. He raised his katanas, and stabbed the mutant in the neck. It screeched and yelled, until he sliced the mutant's head off. He leaped off the body and onto the nearest tree branch, and the bee's body fell to the ground. He sat down on the tree and breathed heavily for a moment, and then calmed down. His heartbeat was going fast, as it always did whenever he was fighting a mutant. It was getting dark, so helayed down and fell asleep, as he did nightly.

Fast forward to the morning, it's now, and he was awake, looking for target mutants or ally humans. He couldn't find any mutants at the moment, as he probably cleared the area of them (for now), and Ajairu with his mutated eyes, he was able to see a young man sleeping in a bush. Curious, he broke a stick off the branch and climbed taller, to the top of the tree. He dropped the stick down, and it fell onto the stomach of the man, and so he waited.

Isam sat at the stern of his boat, the mainsheet line in one hand, the rudder's tiller in the other. The wind wasn't very strong today, so the boat only just crawled along on the water. He probably could have gotten out and pulled the damn thing faster, but it was cold and Isam didn't want to get wet. The graceful drifting would have been relaxing had he not been sick. Isam's whole body had a general, unpleasant feeling. He considered going back into the cabin and laying down again, but the need to get off the boat and stretch his sore legs defeated his urge to lay around like a dying slug.

The wind picked up a little bit, propelling the boat forward a little faster. Isam found himself spacing out as he watched the sails fill. He was pulled back down to earth when he heard a splash in the water on the port side of his boat. A fish maybe? No, definitely not a fish. Isam startled when a man crawled out of the water and tried to board, clinging to the rail and asking for help. He jumped up, dropping both the tiller and the mainsheet to grab his rifle. Isam pointed his gun at the man, eyes wide.
"Who the hell are you?" He demanded with a thickly accented voice, not making any move to help the stranger onto his boat. His hands shook; the man was visibly frightened by the surprise encounter. He was probably unsettled enough to actually shoot should the stranger continue trying to haul himself aboard.

But before Isam got the chance to blast his visitor in the face, the boat's rudder shifted. The craft began to turn to the side, the wind catching the sail in the opposite direction now. The sail whipped from port to starboard, the boom making good of it's name and striking Isam right in the head. Isam yelped, dropping his gun as he fell back.
"Ebn el sharmoota!" He swore in frustration, along with a few other choice words, most of them directed at the man clinging to the side of his boat. Pain blossomed on his left temple. His hand automatically reached up to feel the welt, which was now trickling blood down the side of his face.

Quest's sleep was filled with nightmares of fire, wolf-esque mutations, and Al. As he twisted and turned in his little bed of foliage, a stick fell onto the boy's stomach. Waking with a cry of surprise, Quest found himself in a cold sweat. He had a smashing headache, and putting his hand to his forehead Quest could feel an unmistakable heat emanating from his skin. Great, just great. Putting his hand experimentally to his wound, pain ruptured through the boy. The bleeding had stopped, which means it wasn't extremely deep, but who knows what could of been on the creature's claws. And a night out in the open wouldn't do wonders for it either. Glancing up to take a look at the sky, Quest spotted the man in the tree and froze.

What the hell? Quest's hand went instinctively to the bow at his side. It was fortunately unscathed after the encounter with the wolf-monster, the sturdy wood holding up after getting thrust out of his hands. Quest was on his feet in an instant, bow raised. Quest felt weak, lightheaded and fatigued. As he pulled back the string of his bow, arrow nocked, he could feel the flesh around his wound stretch. Cursing under his breath at the pain, Quest fought through the urge to collapse back down and aimed his bow up towards the man. People, Quest knew, were more dangerous than any army of mutants, and there was no trusting any of them. Al was the only person he'd trusted, and now he was gone.

"Alright asshole, don't make a move or I'll let this arrow loose!"

The small boy said shakily, not feeling quite as brave as he sounded. Quest's hands shook as he held up the bow, and his body felt weak, as if he were about to collapse. Backing up slowly, Quest planned on escaping the clearing without any trouble. Though there was one thing he was sure of, he wouldn't hesitate to let his arrow fly.

*how imagined Trinket's hand writing would look like

Somewhere in Greenville - 3:33pm

The department store was in shambles. The roof was little to none existent. Three sides of its walls had long since collapsed, any usable contents long raided. None would have bother checking the ruins for supplies, and even less if they suspect a resident, man or freak. You can never be sure what lurks in corners these days. Everything was out to kill you. But it was the corners where one is the safest, where one can rest without worry, and where edibles still remain in a city that has been shattered and raped by survivors.

The department store’s rest rooms, or would have been thirty years ago, was one of these spots. There stood a skinny girl hovering over a toilet seat, an improvised spear at hand, ready to strike. The toilet’s drainage had crumbled and one can see the sewers below. She was rat-baiting. There were many ways to catch rats. You can hunt them, you can trap them but nothing beats baiting them. By leaving food out in the open then taking position above the bait and staying still, you can spear them whilst they nibble on the on the food. It doesn’t require much resource or expend valuable energy, only patience.

Rats, especially the sewer kinds, are one of the few animals which hasn’t freakily mutated, being sheltered by feet of concrete does miracles against radiation. The girl’s late mother thought her that. It’s how she kept them alive after the skies went silent. The sewers, the sewers! The girl faintly remembers her mother’s shouts. She was but a young child when it all happened. Her memories from the time before are scares and confusing yet a nagging curiosity exist within her. What was it like before? She would like know.

The girl’s ears perked, a faint scuttling down below. She tightens her grip on the spear and waited. The rodent nose appeared, head then its whole body. Not yet, the girl told herself, take the bait. The rat sniffed the air, nothing. It cautiously approached the teaspoon filled with honey, rare and valuable ever since bees have grown from a fingertip to 3 feet long. The girl held her breath. The rat took a bite then again and again. Now! With one quick thrust, the poor bastard found itself from eating dinner to becoming one.

She drew the spear back and pluck her catch from the blade and placed it among the others. She counted eight, enough to barter with the group she’s currently following. After stringing them up together and wrapping them with cloth, the girl began detaching the blade off the spear. It’s a shiv made out of a filer with its tip sharpened. She gathered her stuff and made her way out of the rumble and under the sky.

The skies were always cloudy even after the Nuclear Winter. It’s still rare to see the sun shine through but it has gradually warmed the past years. Warm enough for stable communities to arise south of the states and corps to be grown. Most communities aren’t welcoming to strangers, seeing that those who haven’t settled down are either bandits or experienced hunters which can pose a threat to a community who're predominantly farmers. Often than not, it’s best to keep away from them.

The girl assessed that she has only has an hour or two of daylight left. Not enough time to get her stuff where she’s holding up at the moment and to double-back and track the group. If she remembered correctly, they’re heading south to the old city of Atlanta. She decided to hold up for the night and intercept the group in the morning.

**********

Ajairu saw, to is delight, the stick woke the young man up. Then, less to his delight, he aimed an arrow at him. Why would he do this? Ajairu didn't know. He jumped back and grabbed the tree branch, swinging on it and landing over to the other tree's branch, then sliding down the tree and jumping forward off the bottom of the tree and landing at the young man's side. He didn't say anything, he just sat there with his head tilted to the side, qustioningly.

Ajairu didn't react to things quite like other people did. Like a disability, but only he could catch it. It made him so that he mostly didn't understand words, but based on the person talking, he could usually understand what they were trying to tell him or say. He also didn't understand emotions very well, especially anger. He could understand all emotions besides anger, and could only feel the same. Maybe it had something to do with traveling around the world from the age of six with only two katanas, two desert eagles, and a rifle to defend himself... But out of all these little quircks in his 'disability', it made him very trustworthy, like a dog.

Back to the moment, he kept his katanas and rifle sheathed, and kept his guns in his pockets. He would most likely not pull them out, he rarely if ever would harm any sort of human, and he would normally escape if they tried to harm him, because he knew he could. No human he'd ever met could keep up with him when he ran, so he had gotten used to running from people when needed.

"I'm a friend!" Ulysses almost cried out when he saw the gun aimed at him. Guns, to a certain extent, scared the ever loving hell out of him and his new friend was not earning any points aiming one at him. A strange sound caught Ulysses attention, part of the boat suddenly shifting, moving towards his new strange friend. "Look out!" He sharply said, moments before the device cracked the man across the head, knocking him onto his ass. When the gun was dropped out of his hand, Ulysses found some relief and took the moment to climb aboard, thanking the boat for stopping his new friend from doing something that would've made this a very short friendship. The moment he was aboard, he dropped down and took a seat on the boat that seemed to be able to attack people on command. Ulysses made a mental note to be very nice to the boat, lest he receive a blow to the head to match the strange man who was now yelling gibberish.

"And I thought I didn't talk good." Ulysses almost laughed, removing his bow and rucksack to lay them down next to him. He had no intention of using them and wanted to make sure that the other survivor understood that. "Are you okay?" He called out to the man who had still yet to rise, "I'm gonna come over now, don't do nothing silly, alright?" Ulysses stood slowly, leaving all of his stuff where he placed it, not wanting to agitate the man any further. He walked slowly, both cautious of the man and the potentially abusive boat. When he reached the man, he rose his hands in the air, opening them. "I ain't got nothin on me." He said, crouching slowly a few feet from the man, "You're bleedin' a lot. For a fella with such a strange mutation, I figured you'd be a bit more... tough like."

The two had walked through the trees for a good half-hour, finally coming to a river. Adelaide sat down at the grassy edge, bending over to wash the soot off her arms and face. She rolled up her sleeves and enjoyed the feeling of cool, refreshing water against her cheeks despite the cool morning air. Standing up, she tied her hair in a messy side-braid. "I bet you're tempted to go for a swim, fish-boy. " A distant burning made her glance down at her hands. There were burns marking up her palms, darkening her olive skin. The pain had been worse before during the walk there yet she had forgotten about it a moment. "How far is the bay?" She finally asked, glancing over her shoulder.

Elijah was sitting against the trunk of a tree, fiddling with some wires. "Oh. Uhh." He put away his items and took out the map from his backpack. "It's literally only maybe half a mile up. You can go up ahead and I'll go get some food. "

"Alright. I should put something on this anyway." She picked up a branch that had broken off from a tree and tossed it to him. "Try to catch some protein."
Fishing poles weren't needed with him around. "By the way what were you doing?"

The boy caught the branch, " You'll find out. It's going to be epic. Sooo... I'm going to get some berries first. Catch you later. Don't look for me because I'm probably going to swim up the river there. "

"Every time you say it's going to be epic something bad happens." She sighed, "Whatever, sounds good." This kid loved explosives and he was quite creative when it came to creating them. Adelaide always wondered if growing up in the war made him that way. She had suspected maybe the parents had played a large role but the kid didn't remember one thing about his past.

"I swear, this time you're going to be amazed. It's not what you think it is." Elijah said. "It's freakin' awesome." He grinned smugly and then carried on his way.

After tending to the burns, Adelaide got up and began following the river toward the bay, admiring the sereneness that it held. After everything they had went through, she took time to enjoy anything tranquil whenever she could find it. However, she was in for a shock when she got in to the bay. There was an actual boat out in the water. She moved hesitantly onto the dock, peering out at the water as the sun's reflection glistened over the waves. Hopefully Elijah would be quick and they could get out of here before whoever was on the boat decided to come ashore.

Isam writhed around on the deck, his bloody hand making a mess of the otherwise stark white fiberglass. He struggled to get to his feet and stop the boat, which was now heading for land and liable to beach itself if something wasn't done. When he finally got up, Isam stumbled his way over to the sail and lowered it, then staggered/crawled to the anchor and threw it overboard. He then flopped down on his back, his head swimming. A large, dark red bruise was already forming on the side of his head, along with a sizable knot. Isam internally cursed himself, this boat, and the strange, childish man all to hell.

But what was done was done, and Isam needed bandages for his head. Being as dizzy and disoriented as he was, the ladder down into the cabin would prove impossible for him to climb. He looked over at this new passenger, who seemed rather harmless after disarming himself.
"Do you see that hatch over there?" He asked, half slurred, "Go down it; it leads to the inside of the boat. Inside, there will be a cabinet to your left, and inside that, there is a large green box that says 'ocean safety first aid kit'. Can you bring that to me?"

His head was still bleeding copiously, with little sign of slowing. Head wounds always bled a lot, Isam knew from experience, but this was abnormal. He suspected his sickness had something to do with it. Between a concussion and his mystery illness, Isam had dug himself a nice little grave. His new company didn't appear to be a threat, and he seemed willing to help. If he wanted to live, Isam had a feeling he would have to accept whatever help the strange man could give him. He let out a huff and laid his head back against the railing of the boat. He had been longing for company, well now he had it.

Standing in front of his class, Marcus took a few minutes to call attendance for his evening class. It was half past five, and all eight of his expected students were there and accounted for. His evening class consisted mostly of older students, between the ages of ten and fifteen. In the morning he taught younger students, teaching them all the things grade school students were expected to learn. By the time they graduated, he hoped all of his students would have a middle-school education, and extensive knowledge of at least one subject. At least then they would have the brains to thrive and hopefully bring light into this new, dark world.

"Jacobs, Spencer," Williams called out, smiling fondly at the name. The preteen raised his hand and gave a soft 'Here' before the older man continued down his short list. That boy, he thought to himself, was going to be a prodigy. Already Spencer had caught up to his senior students, and he was excelling in mathematics and mechanics. Teaching him was difficult but rewarding, as he seemed to eat up any information with a voracious appetite. Although Marcus held all of his students close to his heart, Jacobs was one that he hoped would grow to replace him. Both as a leader, and as a teacher.

Smiling, Marcus began speaking to his class. "Good evening class. Today, we're going to be studying history for our first period." A number of groans were heard, the young men and women not relishing in the opportunity. "Hey, hey! I think you all will be interested in today's lesson; Today, we will be learning about what was once called 'The Digital Era'. To give you an idea of when this era of time took place, it all occurred recently. More specifically, it was the time before the Fall." That, it seemed, got the attention of his students. Smirking, he continued. "For second period, we will be continuing our study on plant sciences." Groans.

---

"Now, before we continue, are there any questions about what we've covered so far?" asked Williams. There was a moment of silence, before one of his students raised their hand. "Yes, Erica?"

"Mister Williams, you've told us a lot about what happened before the Fall. We've read a lot about what happened before the Fall.. But what happened DURING the Fall? There was a war, but we never got beyond that..," The girl asked. Marcus took a moment to gather his thoughts.

"The Fall.. Was a war. A number of nations, or large of millions of people, fought against one another. There were two real sides to this war, although there were also numerous smaller ones participating. Even now some take sides, debating on which side of the conflict was justified, judging the war entirely on hearsay and stories from those who were there. To this day some shed blood in the name of these old nations and alliances. I couldn't say which side was right or wrong, because in my mind, they were both wrong. The Fall started over a small event, which escalated into a war. Millions died and millions more suffered, before one side decided to end it. They acted with intense force, and when the other side retaliated, things turned into what they are today. Nuclear missiles, weapons of mass destruction, were launched. Hundreds of them. They wiped out tens of millions in hours, before their after effects destroyed our once beautiful world," Williams lectured, his students paying close attention, Jacobs the only one taking notes.

"Listen carefully, students. I know many of you groan when I announce we're going to be studying history. However, we do not learn the subject for nothing. A philosopher of the old world once stated, 'Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.' Take these words to heart; Our forefathers studied history, yet did not learn a thing!" the elder men exclaimed. "They spent years of their lives learning about the past, and yet did not learn a single lesson from it! Those who came before made many mistakes, each more crucial than the last. Another philosopher once stated that, 'We learn from history that we do not learn from history.' Do not make the same mistakes as our predecessors. Learn from history. Remember that violence begets violence, and that once we throw aside our fellow man, we too are thrown aside. We stand together, or alone, fall apart. That is what Rampart stands for; We are a bulwark of cooperation and peace in a violent world. Remember that, my students. Stand for peace, above all."

The classroom was quiet, all of the students taking in the words from their teacher. Marcus simply stood there, catching his breath and thinking over his own words. Even Jacobs had stopped taking notes, staring intently at his teacher. The silence stretched, and eventually became too painful for the teacher to bear. "Are there any other questions, before me move on to plant sciences?" Marcus asked. He was met with silence. "Very well, all of you grab a plant science book from the back shelf, and turn to chapter nine.."

As soon as the man in the tree made his move, Quest's arrow was flying. The only thing preventing the arrow from thudding right into the man was a fresh burst of pain from Quest's wound, causing his aim to be thrown off. Instead of hitting the man, the arrow thudded into the base of the tree next to him. Cursing under his breath, Quest pulled another arrow from his quiver and nocked it, aiming it at the man that was now on the ground, approaching him. Another surge of pain reminded Quest of the situation he was in. Seeing the load that the man carried with him, Quest's eyes widened in alarm. The sight managed to make Quest even more untrusting towards the figure before him, it was only bandits that could obtain such a load, from years of bloodshed and thievery. And besides, he must be some kind of mutant superstar to be jumping across trees carrying that kind of load.

And that's when Quest's resolve broke. The accumulated horrors of the night, of meeting a stranger, and of everything that had happened in the last few months had finally caught onto him. He just wanted to get away, curl up in a corner and shut the cruel world around him away. Performing an act of cowardice that he would never forgive himself for, Quest turned and ran. His bow fumbled out of his shaky grasp, and Quest left that behind, too. It didn't matter anymore, he just needed to get away. Quest was weak from his wounds and fatigue, and he didn't get far before his body gave out from underneath him. Falling to his knees, Quest made no attempt to stand. The boy heard a sob escape from his lips, and his hands flew up to cover his mouth. He would not cry, no matter what happened, he wouldn't cry. Quest felt tears poke out from eyes, and he stubbornly blinked them away. This wasn't how it was meant to be, but now that he thought about it, this wasn't how the world was meant to be either.

Ajairu just sat there and studied the man, when suddnely the man jumped up and ran. He tilted his head more and leaped up as well. He quickly climbed a tree to a branch and then followed behind by jumping from branch to branch, and quickly catching his way up to the man. He was suprised to see the man fall to his knees and slightly utter a cry, which he barely heard. He jumped down and landed next to the man. He tilted his head and studied the man, who was obviously upset. He remembered something and ran back to where the man was sleeping. He saw the bow he dropped and a couple of arrows, and picked them up and carried them back to the man. He set them infront of the man and sat there.

He didn't quite understand why the man was so upset, and why he ran away, only to fall to his knees. He didn't think that there was a reason, atleast. Like emotions, he didn't process informationvery well, one way of this being that he couldn't process two and two and realize the man was upset because one, he had ran and then sat down next to the man while carrying a buttload of dangerous weapons, two, the mutants weren't usually nice and he was definately a mutant, and three, the fact that having this many weapons was usually something only bandits had.

Uh," Ulysses mumbled nervously when the man started giving him instructions, "Can do." Ulysses quickly stepped around the man, slipping into the hatch, his eyes wide as nervousness shot through him. 'Alright, we know green. We can find the green box. We don't have to worry about reading it, right?' Ulysses inner monologue started up as he looked around the cabin, unaware that boats could actually be this big. "Alright, green box, green box, green box, green box." He muttered quickly, looking to his left at the cabinet door, pulling it open to find the box the strange man mentioned. The letters looked like gibberish, though he was decently confident that he had what he was sent to find.

Ulysses quickly emerged from the hatch, dropping down to the man's level, his fingers working at the latch on the box, popping it open. He was familiar with most of the stuff inside of the box and knew from experience how to handle a decent amount of injuries. "Stay still," Ulysses said softly, being relatively calm in this moment of potential disaster. He fished through the box, removing two antiseptic wipe packets which he opened and quickly wiped down the gash with, apologizing as he did so, knowing full well the unpleasant sting that accompanied them. As he removed the wipe he placed down a gauze pad to prevent bleeding and held it with one hand while unwrapping the roller bandage. "Lift up your head," he added as he began to roll the bandage around the man's head, doing a few rounds before cutting the bandage with his teeth and taped it down.

Ulysses scooted away from the man, putting his back against the boat while he reorganized the container and resealed it. He looked up at the man, offering a hand. "Ulysses." He said simply, giving a toothy grin.

Isam seemed to be in a daze when the man came back out. He blankly stared off across the river, even as the man sat down next to him and began to bandage his wound. The blood had seeped down his neck and was soaking onto his left shoulder, staining his shirt. He'd have to wash that later. Isam didn't even flinch when the man applied the alcohol pads to his wound. He only seemed to snap back to reality when Ulysses introduced himself. Strange name; Isam was sure he'd heard it before. His head lolled to the side to look at the man, his eyelids drooping.
"Isam," He said, leaning over to shake the man's hand with his clean, right hand.

Isam then grabbed onto the boat's railing and began to slowly pull himself up. His wobbled, then grabbed onto Ulysses's shoulder for support. "Can you help me get to my bed?" He asked. It seemed to be the least the man could do, since this whole thing was entirely his fault. Or at least that was how Isam saw it. He depended heavily on the man's help as he stumbled over to the hatch, and getting him down the ladder was no easy feat. Once inside, Isam could use the narrow hallway to hold himself up. He got to his little nest in the back and sat down on the edge of the bed. He reached into a cardboard box that sat nearby and pulled out a clean shirt to change into.

Isam pulled his bloody, long-sleeved t-shirt off over his head and tossed it aside, not too concerned with neatness. His skin underneath his clothing was nothing short of horrific: dark red bruises that refused to heal littered his body. His arms were covered in ugly red dots, like some kind of bizarre rash, and the old scars left over from years of war didn't do anything for him. Isam pulled the clean shirt on quickly, not wanting to see his own body. The worse it got, the more hope he lost.

Isam pushed his boots off his feet one at a time, then drew his legs up onto his bed. He laid down on his side, not caring if he made himself vulnerable to his new company or not. What did it matter if the man killed him? He was dying anyway. All Isam was concerned with was sleep; he really wanted to sleep. He just wanted to laid there and sleep for a very long time.

Gunfire echoed through the silent streets, barely missing their target. The bullets fired into buildings and cars at random, causing glass to shatter and haphazardly land around the neighborhood. Car alarms blared hysterically upon impact, creating even more noise. Birds, mutated and not, took flight, squawking and screeching at the top of their lungs. Black birds swarmed the sky, practically devouring the sun and creating a temporary eclipse. Barely audible, yet heavy paced footsteps hit the pavement hard, though it was only the tip of their those. For someone with the height she had, she only needed to use her tip toes. Usually, taller girls would use more force, though it wasn't necessary for her. She was as agile as a deer and moved faster than normal. Throughout the obnoxious mount of sound being produced, nothing could mask the trill giggle escaping her dark red lips, equally matching her fiery red hair. The thrill of a chase always made her high on glee. She ignored the fact that she could be injured or worse, killed. Nevertheless, it was in the back of her mind, forcing her to precede with as little caution as she could handle.

More gunfire went off, causing Perenelle to pick up the pace. They were gaining on her. These people, these hunters, were relentless. All this trouble for a loaf of bread and a few spare apples? She wanted food and that was it. It was survival of the fittest and she was surviving. She was acutely aware of everything around her, down to the frantic spider crawling on the building to the left of her. She could hear its' eight legs scurrying as fast as they could. Her breathing came quick and without haste, filling her ears over the noise. Her drawstring bag was bouncing chaotically on her back as she ran. She could feel the bumps and ridges in it, including the tiny singes made from small fires. She could smell food miles away, the nearby ocean, and some unpleasant odors. It was a downside of having enhanced senses. Then again, there were positives and negatives to everything in life. She caught a quick reflection of herself in a glass window nearby: long red hair flowed out of her black hood, an old skull tank top underneath, and a pair of black baggy pants. Somehow, with the makeshift belt, they stayed up, which she was thankful for since they covered her tail. Her boots were black as well. It was a shifty contrast with her pale skin, fiery red hair, and her black ensemble. Ordinarily, she would tie her hair back but she hadn't had time to. She sighed, cleared her mind, and focused on the scene ahead.

Up ahead, there were a line of abandoned cars, with shops nearby. They had hanging flags or otherwise small ledges that she could grab onto to hoist herself up. It was a risky idea, but nothing else was going to work. It was that chance or be shot. Perrie gritted her teeth, jumping on an oncoming car and onto the hood. She saw the springiness of it and jumped again, not only breaking the top, but launching herself into the air. She reached for the hanging flag pole and gripped it with her fingers. Yes, she thought with triumph, pulling herself up onto it. She grinned delightedly and began to swing, up until bullets fired near her. She inhaled and grabbed the ledge and propelled herself up towards the roof. Perrie thought she would miss, but she quickly grabbed the edges. She pulled herself up and onto the roof, panting. She rolled away from the edge after hearing the hunters arriving.

Managing to collect herself, she stood up and gazed over the edge. The main hunter tried to shoot once more, but his gun locked. Frustration was smeared across his expression. His comrades weren't able to fire either, nor did they seem as if they wanted to. Perenelle grinned, curtsying. "You know you love me," She chirped, cackling. Perrie ran to the other side of the roof and leaped towards the one behind it. Grasping the edges, she pulled herself up and onto the roof, her bag following suit. She had managed to secure food and sustain her water bottles. it was turning out to be a good day after all. Tossing her head back, Perenelle began to laugh, clutching her sides, her hood falling off in the breeze that followed.