The sun beat down on my face.
Cruel, honestly.
Winter was coming. I could feel it in the air already whenever the wind cut through my clothes, carrying that dry cold that settled into your bones before the season even officially arrived. But the sunlight still hit warm enough to make me squint.
It felt wrong.
Like the world couldn't decide what it wanted to be.
Kind of like everything else.
The tension in the camp was enough to make me sick.
Nobody really spoke.
Not in the normal way.
People still talked, technically. There were reminders to grab supplies. Questions about routes. Someone asking if anybody had seen extra ammunition. Somebody else counting inventory under their breath. A distant argument about ration distribution that died the second it started.
But there was nothing real in any of it.
No conversations.
No laughing.
No lingering.
Nobody looked at each other for very long.
And honestly…
Yeah.
I figured this would happen.
