IHASNIP3RIFLE

A boy slowly walked through the snow; trudging, dragging his boots as he went. Hunger panged at him like a punch in the stomach, and he was almost nothing but skin and bones. He stumbled through the snow, as the whirling winds sent the snow dancing about, like little grey faeries, taunting him as they spun. He stumbled on slowly, dragging his old boots behind. He was covered in cloth and had only a rifle upon his back, his hands shaking from hunger. For the last few days, he had hunkered down in the basement of an abandoned house as the cold came down in the freezing month of January like an icy hammer. He thought he had enough food. He was

The streets were unusually quiet as they walked, seeing the buildings all around. The huge building in the center stood out and was hard to ignore, but something even harder to ignore was the quiet of the streets. Joe looked all around, seeing people silhouetted in the building windows, staring down at this strange man, walking confidently through the streets. "I really don't like this place," Allastor mumbled. Joseph grunted in response. They walked and walked, into a thicker area of town. People watched from the alleys, and devilishly thin people watched from the sides. Somewhere, a baby cried out, and dirty children wearing scraps kicked

The sun rose on a bleak scene within a few minutes. Those three figures walked down the road solemnly, Allastor peeking up at Joseph every now and then. His right hand was covered in cloth, wrapped tight as can be, but the red still shone through. His sword was over his shoulder and his pistol in his holster, as he just walked. But, every now and then, he stumbled. He never stumbled, Allastor thought. Something was wrong. Of course, onwards they walked, through the heat of the day, passing the old cars lying in the road, dead and soulless. Shadows would zip here and there every now and then, but he barely batted an eyelash. His left hand sh