Lucas and I were resolved to a life as travelers. We had tried to stay in one place for long periods of time but it never seemed to work out. Supplies would run short. A herd of greyskins would run us out. Any number of things would happen to keep us on the move at all times. Once or twice we tried to become part of a group or village. We made promises to pull our weight. We swore up and down that we would be worth the food it would cost to make us a part of their community, but we always got the boot. Groups had already decided upon their members. Villages were too careful about who they let in. So, we moved around for the next two years in no particular direction. For some reason, it worked for us. Sure, if we had come up on a town or group that was willing to have us, we would have gladly joined with them, but by this point, we were no longer looking.

On the road, we had become more skilled at avoiding the greyskins. We became better killers, better hunters. Lucas taught me everything he knew about stalking a prey for food. We would set traps and if we ever came across a rifle, we would hunt deer. Guns were few and far between and on a couple of occasions, the sound of the blasts got us in trouble, so we usually preferred not to travel with them. We made slingshots to kill squirrels and birds, and we carried sharp weapons to fend off the greyskins. We avoided the cities and towns so we wouldn’t come across raiders. That’s not to say we didn’t have some close calls.

This particular night was storming wildly. The winds howled and the lightening flashed, shooting out booms of thunder so loud that I had to cover my ears. It was imperative that we find shelter, but when we came across a shady cabin in the middle of the woods, it almost seemed safer to brave the storm. Lucas looked at me with rain dripping off his face, our clothes soaked to the skin.

“It looks small enough,” he said. “Shouldn’t be too many greyskins in there if any.”

I was more worried about the fact that it might have someone in it. The thought of greyskins didn’t scare me. We stalked toward the front of the cabin, the rain concealing our steps. Lucas held a crowbar in his hands and I had a long dagger I had found on a dead body.

At the front door there was a sign that said Frank Miller. I didn’t really like that I knew the identity of the cabin’s owner.

Lucas pressed his face against the window and peered in. “It’s just one room,” he said. “Doesn’t look like anyone has been here in a while.”

“Okay,” I nodded at him.