Narinder Singh's feet ached terribly in the bitter cold. Each shuffling step across the frozen ground and packed ashfall drove the cold deeper into his feet, like a dull blade being dragged slowly along the bones. He shambled down the remnants of a path the elements had obliterated. Before the war, it had been clearly marked and meticulously cared for. Now, darkness concealed stones and debris, threatening to turn his ankle and spill him on his head.
He had quite lost track of exactly why he'd originally left the shelter, but he had retained a vague notion that . . .
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- The Grantville Gazette Staff