I talk to him for a while. His name is Timothy. It turns out the dog, Savvy is her name, was a clone prototype that he had taken in.
"So, where did you come from before the apocalypse?" I ask, mussing the dog's fur.
"New York, then Alabama," he replies, scooping up powdered snow and letting it sift through his fingers. I don't tell him much about me though. I consider my life pretty boring. I open my mouth to speak when he reaches under a rock. I stare at him with a perplexed expression until he pulls out two shotguns. He passes one to me.
"Thanks, but, why? There's nothing to kill," I say, raising an eyebrow. He throws me a pack and slings his own across both his shoulders. He motions for me to follow him, so I reluctantly shuffle my boots across the ice as we exit the cave.
