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THE LOST : After The End

In a post-apocalyptic world, you'll find four main types of people. Those who fight with all their might "the hunters." The ones who leech and exploit others "the pests." The predators, who see everyone as prey. And lastly, we have "the survivors," the resilient ones who never give up. Everyone often fits into one category, but it's hard to determine which one Maya falls into. She's not exactly a fighter, considering leaving her room was a chore even before the apocalypse. A predator? No way—she's always been a pushover. You might think she's a survivor, but that's laughable. She'd rather die from starvation than resort to scavenging. So, how should we categorize her? leeche? Nope. Perhaps a new category is needed: "The Lost"—those struggling to find their place in a shattered world."

Donna_Sheldon · Ficção Científica
Classificações insuficientes
80 Chs

CHAPTER 29

Morning came too quickly, bringing with it the cold, biting wind that made every inch of my body ache. The fire had long since gone out, leaving only faint wisps of smoke curling into the air.

Alex was already up, of course. He was crouched a few feet away, going through our pathetic pile of supplies with his usual scowl.

I stretched cautiously, biting back a groan as every sore muscle screamed in protest. My injured leg throbbed sharply, the dull ache flaring with every slight movement. It felt like a hot knife twisting just below my knee, the kind of pain that made you second-guess even breathing too hard. "What's the plan?" I asked, my voice still hoarse from the crying fit last night.

Alex didn't look up. "We keep moving."