M.A.D.

Rest.

I started a small fire, just large enough for the can of dog food I found. The only thing left after the scavengers and bandits passed through. You know, most people before the war wouldn't have even thought of eating this stuff, but out here it's either eat canned food or irradiated wildlife. And I would rather not die from radiation poisoning after surviving so long thus far. My name isn't important, what is important is that I need to write this journal to stave off the creeping insanity at each and every corner of my mind. The only companion I have out here is this starving dog. She seems loyal too, answering to the name "Scout." Which is the only thing she had with her, a collar that is, with the imprint of scout on it and nothing more. She would've frozen, starved, dried-out, or all of the above had I not come around with fire and food for her. We've traveled together for a few weeks now, and I think she's starting to like me more. Definitely more than the packs of wolves that have most likely mutated over time. However, I haven't run into them, only heard their howls late at night. Now that I've finished off the better half of this can, I gave it to Scout. She seems happier and contempt with staying here for the night. We've held up in the corner of a crumbling building. However, we have a roof above our heads and protection from the harsh winds. So, I'm satisfied with taking a break from wandering in the darkness and finally getting some rest. The fact that I was finally sitting made an aching pain spread across my body entirely. But after making the fire a bit bigger and warming up, I was starting to feel a bit better. As well as a sudden realization to exactly the intensity of exhaustion I had been facing. Shortly after reaching a more comfortable temperature, Scout had curled up next to me. And with one hand on her, I was slowly losing consciousness. This seems to be the very first moment I've felt comfortable since before the war. It seems like so long ago now.