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Yanara

In the Night

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Yanara    0

Alethea slumped into the warmth of her sleeping bag, her once admired face chiseled away by nature's cold wrath. A small cough forced her lips to part and a shooting pain rushed through her head, she knew she was taking unwell but was in no way willing to risk going back to the town to find anti-biotics or the like. She didn't even know her own symptoms, she sighed and muttered something about wanting to google before turning over in her small cocoon of a bed.

She grew accustomed to sleeping in her clothes, although the prospect of snuggling back into her blue sheep pajamas was enough to make her remember of home. "Home" she stated in a dejected tone, she hadn't thought about her family back in Tbilisi since the outbreak. I have to assume the worst, they were in the capital.. No way to get out there with that many people. But what if? No ifs... I can't afford ifs and buts. I wish I had papa with me, he'd know what to do. Well better than anyone else here, but I do wonder what happened to those men by the river today; it's still too risky to approach people. People seem so weird lately, I mean yeah okay your entire life and that has just been turned around but come on you can't just shoot other people for a can of beans... No one can be that desperate. It's hard but hey I'm still here without bullying people, wish they could just grow up. It's all these foreigners too, at least in Georgia we helped each other.

A shiver ran through her as a cold breeze kept up, and with a hurling and gnarly sound accompanied by the grotesque sound of feet trudging amongst fallen leaves. Her eyes flashed wide, removed from her own private thoughts she reached down to her belt to retrieve her knife - a small steak knife she stole as she left the city. The sounds grew louder and louder, she didn't fancy being someone's or well some thing's meal. She rose to her feet, grunting and groaning as she moved to climb the nearest tree. Alas a meaty hand pulled her down from it, cold as the wind and needy as an infant to it's mother. The rotten flesh of a man quickly threw her to the ground, she was never one to be in fights never fight for her life. She screamed in distress, kicking and squirming as the hands tried to rip open her thick puffy winter coat. She clawed at the man's face, digging her hand into the side of his cheek as she tried to roll him over. She succeeded, the corpse of a man fell onto his back but continued to fight, chomping at her with eyes so hungrily on her figure. She reached for a rock and without thought threw it down onto the man's skull, breaking it to two. She kept in that same position for a few moments, thinking of what she had done. She felt a surge of emotion flow through her and in that moment she not could not weep, she could mourn but she could pray.

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weedy wine    4

Pretty good :) I like the wanting to google part. would take me forever to get out of googling habits. Also the meaty hand description is pretty good, since zomboids aren't really people anymore, just meat sacks with a hankering for your body bits. I liked it. Could use a bit of editing here and there is all.

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