DD

The camp outside Atlanta sat uneasy in the stillness of late summer, shadows stretching long across the clearing as the survivors busied themselves with their makeshift chores. Smoke curled lazily from the fire pit, mingling with the smell of ash and sweat, while the constant hum of cicadas filled the silence between voices. Everyone seemed to have a role: gathering firewood, washing clothes in the stream, keeping watch, anything to distract from the gnawing truth of the world falling apart. Everyone but her.