PREVIEW
... there's a sun or anything. The fire dims, the aches set in, and everyone starts moving around like we've all agreed to pretend sleep means something.
The stranger's still curled near the wall, silent. Still breathing. Still not dead.
So that's... good?
No one talks about it. They just watch it when they think no one else is watching them. Like it'll sprout teeth if looked at too long.
The female sharpens her shard. The hoarder checks our stash again, counts it und ...
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