Out of the Wind: Gone to Ground

When I opened my eyes, the fire I had tended several times during the night was out and the weak dawn light seeped into my lair. A light snow drifted gently onto the pile of debris in the exposed corner. Despite sleeping undisturbed except to fend off the cold, I was tired. Worse yet, it had been several days since I had eaten and several weeks since I had been sated: I was slowly starving.

I wrapped my few possessions in the rag that I used as a carry-all and stuffed it into my pocket. I searched the basement, looking for anything useful but, as expected, found nothing.

A low but distinctive drone, which had so far escaped my attention, signalled the approach of an apithopter. I stood motionless, listening for it to pass on its way to who knew where. The sound intensified. I waited for it to abate which it did very suddenly and I realized that the craft had landed somewhere nearby.

If I left now, I would leave tracks or be seen outright. I was trapped. I fled to the darkest corner of the ruin.

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