How many weeks has it been? Two, maybe 3, time doesn't mean much anymore. I wonder what my family is doing, assuming they're alive. Mom would be doing work on her computer. My little sister would be dressing up her dolls. My younger brother would be old TV shows. My father would be smoking outside, trying not to burn the rose bushes. But I have bigger issues.

The Hunters could come any day now. My underground shelter's supplies are running low. It doesn't help that I took in a stray dog, who I named Fluffball, and an old cat, who I named Contour. I had to give them food and water.

My thoughts were cut short by the woodned shelter door being pounded on. "Open up in the name of Prince Damene!" a voice demanded from above. I grabbed a few bags and packe dthem up, putting the bags and my new pets in a wagon. Contour whined, her white coat covered in dirt, "Shh! We don't have much time!" I replied.