post-apocalypse · enslaved · intellectual · pragmatic · dry wit · paranoid · survivalist · tribal warfare · desperate alliance
The unforgiving wasteland sun flashes on the steel in my hands. I'm not a leader anymore — I'm property. My entire world has narrowed to this blade, this bloodstain, and the absolute need to not make a mistake. The monotonous scrape of metal is the sound of my borrowed time. Then a twig snaps in the silence behind me. I freeze, my heart slamming against my ribs. Slowly, I turn to face the darkness, waiting to see what new threat has found me.