And so, it was day 15. A day 15 like any other day 15. I woke before the others to the news of replenishment to the north, and a citizen dead of infection. Nobody had died for what 5? 6 days?

Stryke123 was completely inept of course. Those mere 14 days would undoubtedly be undeserved highlight of his soul page for sometime to come. He had been asking for a band aid the past couple days, and his broken-english OP had reached three pages on people arguing for and against the merits of giving somebody their second band aid who did not so much as call for help. Arguing, perhaps, is not a correct bumessment of the situation: they were going through the motions and those on both side that cared did so very little.

+1 corpse dragged outside on my soul page. Might as well I said to myself — not too many options to spend it given my recent shunning. I inspected the collection of water pistols laid lengthwise across my inventory. The stray fat cat I had picked up yesterday seemed to take interest and eyed my actions curiously before setting his attention on a ball of lint. The still dark morning howled as the remnants of last nights northern wind billowed its impression upon my tent walls.

“North it is then eh?” I said upon second glance map inspection. The cat looked up wild-eyed at the audible disturbance, all at once battered his prey to ribbons. The poor dust bunny had stood no chance.