Brushing away the snow from the ground, he lit a small fire. At least underneath the tracks there was no wind, it was the only shelter he had. The snow was peaceful, but a constant reminder that he didn't have a place of his own. It was always harder on nights like this.
The fire glowed and he reached out his hands to accept its warmth. From his back back he pulled a small parcel of food he had kept from the last house he raided.
It hadn't always been like this. He had a good job, a family, a life. But when the creepers came. Everything changed. Sure he could find a group to stay with, but that was almost more dangerous than living out here on his own. One infection and a single creeper could take out an entire group of survivors. He was better on his own.
The snap of a twig broke the silence.
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