Slave Empire - Prophecy

Rayne built a fire, her leather jacket unable to cope with the bitter cold. Although she huddled close to the flames, her back remained chilly while her front cooked. Her supply of combustible material dwindled rapidly, for cardboard burnt quickly and wood was in short supply in the ruined department store she had chosen as a night camp. All the windows were smashed, allowing an icy breeze in.

  Looters had long since taken any blankets or draperies that could be used for warmth, but her spot behind a counter in the centre of the shop floor gave her cover whilst allowing her to flee if she was attacked. The storerooms and offices at the back of the store were tempting, owning doors and therefore warmer, but they were potential traps if a gang of mutants or hoboes sniffed her out.

  Curling up, she strived to conserve her warmth as the fire died. Her stomach rumbled, and she clenched her teeth to stop them chattering, but her shivers grew more violent as the air cooled. Nevertheless, she closed her eyes and tried to sleep.

  Every little noise woke her from her uneasy doze, mostly rats scuttling in the garbage, and she knew she would have a restless night.