Bree grabbed the thigh holster, and transferred the gun from her hip to it, before grabbing a revolver with a longer muzzle. She flicked it open with a practiced motion, making sure all six bullets were still accounted for, before tucking it into her hip holster. The arrows she carried were traded out for ones with even bigger blades, and she traded her bow in for a stronger one. As a finishing touch, she shouldered a small pack. If she had an ATV, it would have taken her only moments to get to the wallow. As it was, she had only her own two feet, and it took closer to a quarter hour. She slowed down as she got close, grabbing an arrow and holding it lightly against the string. The grunting got louder as she crept forward, and she brought the bow back to full draw in a slow, smooth motion. The light of the moon was reflected off the water, and off the eyes of over two dozen pigs; natives weren't the only animals that took advantage of the lack of depredation. She quickly singled out a few likely targets, and loosed her first arrow at the first. There was a moment where the pigs froze, ten years of no depredation messing with their instincts, and she took advantage of that to peg another pig, before the sounder leapt into action. One big pig came right at her, and she dropped her bow, drawing the gun from her hip. She knew her aim wasn't good with this gun; she had hardly dared to practice with it, so she waited as the pig charged, willing her body not to shake. Forty yards, thirty yards, twenty yards. Bree nearly closed her eyes, not wanting to stare the creature down. She fancied she could feel it's breath when she finally started shooting. The pig squealed in pain, deciding it wasn't worth it, and whirled to run off. For just a second, Bree saw her opportunity, and fired off a broadside shot. She nearly thought she'd missed, when she watched it continue to run, but it finally slowed and fell over. Bree took a gasping breath, realizing for the first time that she had held her breath, and shakily holstered her gun. She went to squat, but ended up falling over instead, staring up at the stars. It wasn't the first time that had happened, and it wouldn't be the last. Hell, it wasn't even the closest it'd come; scars on her chest and arms would attest to that. But it was the most immediate, and therefore the worst. She gave herself a few seconds, before she picked up the brass with still-shaky fingers, and slung the bow over her shoulder. Her mind was starting to return to it's normal channels, thinking of who would trade what for the pork.

She mentally set aside an entire hog for Dale before even beginning that, of course. Once she had all three hogs hanging and bleeding out, she wondered if she should cook for Ally and her family. On one hand, they had made meals for her on more than a few occasions. On the other hand, she had to bring peace offerings to even be allowed to stay for more than a moment, and she was fairly certain the peace offerings exceeded the meals in value. On the third hand, she'd like to do something nice for Ally and Dot, especially since Ally had to live in the sardine can. The bunker they had was on the larger side, but it always seemed much smaller to her. Maybe it was the space that was wasted to make it wheelchair friendly, maybe it was the fact over half of it was for storage. Whatever it was, she'd happily take her cave over that any day.

Bree stretched out on her bed with a happy sigh. The hogs were taken apart and were in the coolers, their hides in the process of being tanned. It certainly made up for the time Bree spent fruitlessly searching for supplies with Ally, though she didn't regret doing that. It had been a nice way to pass some time, and she could tell the sun was good for the girl. She was several shades too pale, in Bree's opinion, and she knew just the cause of it. Despite the levels of radiation having dropped to the point where you could stand at ground zero for a week without having any negative effects, she was still only allowed out only twice a week, for no more than a couple hours. It was ludicrous, in Bree's opinion, and the reason the family was running low on food. Privately, Bree thought it was because Bill was jealous of his daughter's mobility, but she couldn't say anything on that without coming off looking like a jerk. Yeah, she'd make that special meal for Ally. She deserved it. Dot too; she couldn't imagine putting up with him for a week, let alone fifteen years.

She woke up with no alarm, to a pitch-black room. She sighed as she swung her feet off the side of her bed, hissing as her feet hit the cold floor. If you think having tile a few degrees colder than your bed is bad, imagine touching the inside of your refrigerator. She whimpered as she shifted from foot to foot while changing into outside-decent clothes. The last things to go on were her boots, which she noted with disappointment that the sole was starting to wear again. Luckily, she had at least three more sets outside, when they were ready. For now, she just slid her pistol into her hip holster and grabbed the biggest cooler. It was hard to get it through the corridor, since it needed to be pulled forward while on it's side, and she couldn't get much force to pull without banging something into the walls. Eventually though, she managed to work it out, and then she could roll it down the hill, with only minimal snags. The roads weren't as clear as they once were, and the trip was far longer than she expected, and the hardest part was yet to come.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Bree sighed as she stared down the tunnel. She turned and started climbing down, tugging the cooler to the point just a second before it'd fall. When it was nearly out of reach, she pulled on it, making it slowly slide towards her face. She grunted as the weight settled on her one arm, even as she made sure it wouldn't keep falling. Every step she took down made the cooler clang against a rung on the ladder, and her ears and arm were grateful for the rest when she finally touched down, and could share the burden equally. “Bree!” A man scolded her, and she winced a little despite herself “I could have helped.” he grumbled, but she just shrugged “I got it down just fine, Dale.” she told him, as the man lurched towards her. “And You shouldn't be moving too much.” she reminded him, pulling out a container from a pouch at her hip. His face lit up as he saw the bottle, which had pieces of bark in it “I figured you'd be close to running out.” she told him, before maneuvering around him to set the cooler next to the freezer. “I was. Thanks.” he told her, setting it beside a container that had only wet pieces of bark in it, before sinking onto the couch with a groan. “I took down three of them. Might see if I can get myself a little solar panel and freezer. It'd be nice to have some fruit in winter.” she remarked, as she expertly stacked the butcher paper wrapped parcels into the freezer, re-arranging it so that the oldest packages were still on top. “You don't mind holding onto some for me, do you?” she asked, even as she pulled out some meat from the fridge, and went about filling the slow cooker for dinner that night. “Never.” he stated, watching the vaugley frazzled girl sit down before adding “You've helped me out to much to begrudge you something that small.” She smiled slightly, before joining him on the couch. “Anything good?” she asked, looking over the small bins he had set on the table in front of him. “Everything is good. Just a matter of what you can use.” he reminded her, even as he tapped the two bins that held contents that would interest her the most. “.44 and 9mm.” he went on, detailing the precise grain and powder content, but she didn't pay attention to that, instead doing a rough count of them, and giving them a quick once over. He'd almost feel offended, except that he knew the life of the brass casings was wearing thin and the fresh pair of eyes could spot potentially lethal imperfections. A dozen rounds were removed and set to the side for re-inspection and probably, reprocessing, but the rest of the three hundred odd rounds were cleared. There were fewer of the .44, but their brass was in better condition, and all fifty rounds were cleared. “Thanks. I had a close encounter of the porcine kind just earlier. Used all six rounds.” the light laughter that followed that statement did nothing to lessen the severity of the words. “Did you get nicked?” he asked, looking her over closer for any hint of her shoddy bandaging. “Nah, nothing like that. Almost, I suppose, but I'm faster than that.” she smiled, willfully ignoring the multiple times she had not been faster than that.

“I don't like it when you let them get close.” he stated unnecessarily, frowning even as he stood to place the rejected bullets next to his press. “an extra seventy pounds of meat is not worth risking your life.” he added, making her roll her eyes. “I wasn't risking my life. The tusks weren't even three inches long.” she stated, looking mildly uncomfortable, and he let up on her. “Might want to get gone if you want to trade the rest of that today.” he stated, giving the girl an out. One she took eagerly, even as she dropped a few coins to pay for the rounds she was taking. “If'n these go for more, I'll give you the extra later.” she yelled over her shoulder as she scampered up the ladder. Dale shook his head, even as he added the coins to a growing stack. Sometimes he wonders why she still pays him for the bullets, despite not taking any payment for the meat. He could get angry at her, for her obvious doting on an crippled old man, but he instead looked at it as a forced savings, that he'd give back to her later.