Moon and the few people she had that had survived the journey to the west were resting in the shadow of a jagged building, their breath coming in ragged gasps. They had just barely survived an attack from a pack of razor hounds, and the adrenaline was finally wearing off, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion.
Moon, however, didn't seem to have a 'rest' setting. She stood over them, her boots caked in dried ash and hound blood, tapping her foot impatiently. "Up! Everyone up! We aren't safe here. The scent of blood from the injured will bring other mutated animals to us. Move your legs or lose them!"
The men didn't move. Pete who usually had an encouraging word for everyone in the hardest of situations, just groaned and buried his face in his dirt-stained hands. "I think I pulled a muscle; I cannot go any further right now. I think we are all just about done with this hellish journey."
