luna mortimer-smith had long learned not to trust anyone, staying in the middle of the woods as to avoid any contact with the dead or any other humans.
one evening, she'd gone out to check her hunting traps like usual. little did she realize, thoug...
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Warm, early summer air wafted through the open windows that were dotted around Luna's cabin. A light breeze was rolling through the area, filling the air with the sweet scent of the flowers that dotted the waters edge. Luna was busy preparing to go out and check her hunting traps, like she did every day. She wasn't expecting much trouble, besides the possible few dead she'd run into every few days, but she always made sure to be prepared. Stepping outside into the grass, Luna took a deep breath and looked up at the sun.
"Two hours." She mumbled to herself before turning back towards the forest and beginning to walk in. The forest was considerably darker than the meadow where her cabin sat, but Luna knew these woods well enough by now to weave in and out through the trees, knowing exactly where she was going. It didn't take her long to reach her first trap, though it hadn't turned up anything. She sighed, making sure the trap was set properly before moving on. By the time she'd finished resetting her final trap, she'd bagged two rabbits and a squirrel. It was enough to keep her for a few days, but she knew she'd come back to check the traps the following night anyway. It didn't take too long for her to reach her cabin, though she had ended up taking down two dead on her way.
It confused her, as they usually never got that close to her cabin, but she didn't think of much of it. That was, until, she reached the tree line outside of the cabin. There was another dead, banging on the door. She sighed, pulling out her knife and sneaking up on it. As soon as it was dead, she pulled it away from the door and over to the fire pit, where she planned to burn it later. As she pushed open the door, she slid her knife back into it's sheath, sighing at the blood splattered across the door now. She shut the door, and had begun to hang up her things when she heard a sound come from the living room. Now on edge, she carefully took out her knife and inched forward. In the living room, seemingly passed out on her couch, was a boy. He couldn't have been much older than she was, if at all, and he had blood stained all over his left upper arm.
Carefully, she inched forward, kicking his leg lightly before moving away-though the boy only stirred, his eyes remaining shut. As quiet as she could, she slipped off her things before taking the gun and knife the boy had on him. She went and hid them, coming back to the living room to see the boy was still passed out, though now slightly slumped over. Keeping her gun on her side, she decided to look at his arm. He didn't move as she peeled back his flannel shirt, revealing an obvious bullet wound in his arm. She sighed, going to get her first aid kit before returning to the boy and pulling his flannel completely off. It was obvious that the wound was at least a week old, maybe more, and it hadn't been treated at all. She began to take things out of the first aid box, still cautiously eying the boy.
