Serena tried not to mind the bitter cold seeping through her layers. Holding one arm tightly across her chest as the other kept a tight grip on her rifle, she locked her eyes on the snow-covered road and counted her steps. The weather could be worse; she could have come during the winter.

Forty-six, forty-seven, forty-eight.

She could remember the gas station on the left, where Daniel and her had made their first foraging trip.

Fifty-eight, fifty-nine.

The ruined office building where they found Cassandra, coated in Strix bliid and with only two rounds left. She'd proven helpful once they calmed her down and took her back to warmth in the village.

Seventy-three, seventy-four, seventy-five.

The department store; Serena had made her first kill there. Daniel had gone in ahead of her, while she looked through the drawers in the office. She heard a noise in the back, but just thought it was Daniel. She should have been buried there.

She remembered the footsteps, the tension, the click of the revolver's hammer. She still didn't remember turning around, only the gunshot. They never found out his name.

Ninety-three, ninety-four.

The diner where Daniel had died, three months ago. She dared a look at it. The windows were still broken, but crystalline Strix husks had blocked the view inside. Markers, forever, of how much his life cost the enemy that would never rest.

One hundred ten, one hundred eleven.

Now it was new territory. The cold wind still cut through her clothing, but as she kept moving, the heat managed to fight back. She looked up again, taking stock of her choices. On the left was a two-story building, with clear and shattered windows. Above the door was a worn and faded sign. Serena could barely make out the letters "phar". Medicine. The village always needed more

On the right was a taller building, four stories, but the roof had collapsed, and take  the top floor with it. There weren't any signs, and the windows were tinted a dark black. She walked up to the door and made a mark on the wall beside it: two circles, with a vertical line cutting them in half. Scouted, unentered, possibly dangerous.

She turned back to the pharmacy, and stepped inside, both hands now securely on her rifle. The sunlight stretched far inside, showing mostly vacant shelves and snow-drifts that had encroached from outside. With a few steps inside, however, the wind died down enough for warmth to spread out from her chest, and she gave a sigh of relief.

Ears and eyes alert for anything, she made her way down the aisles. Anything that seemed widely useful was grabbed and placed in her pack, and the rest was left where it was found. She was finished with one aisle when she saw the counter, barely lit as deep into the store as it was.

Even in he shadows she could catch the telltale glimmer of Strix skin, but she heard no sound from it. She froze, breath caught in her throat. One meant a dozen. A dozen meant death. She was alone this time. She looked down, pulling the bolt back. Loaded. She pushed it back in. She hadn't fired yet. Left with ten. One more magazine in the jacket pocket, only six. Pistol on the hip, twelve rounds. Knife in the sleeve. 

She saw the crystals move, and then the faint chittering of Strix, not from the body, but from upstairs, and the backroom. She began to back up. Finger on the trigger, stock on her shoulder. One flare in the pack, or was it two? Her breaths began to come quickly, but she closed her eyes a moment to calm them.

The chittering turned to silence, and Serena stopped. She was in the middle aisle, how far from the door? Halfway? She could run, but would they chase? The sunlight felt warm, but the wind chilled. Strix always hated light, but thrived in cold.

Then, it came from behind her. A shriek, ear-splitting. She turned, aimed, and fired. The world was fire and gunshots and glimmering crystalling skin. As soon as the body fell she ran, rifle in one hand as she fumbled for a flare and tossed it behind her at the doorway. It would mark the way, warn the next. The shrieks grew louder, and she thought of Daniel. She'd made the same mistake, again. At least this time, only her life had been on the line.