Path of Dragons - A LitRPG Apocalypse (BOOK TWO STUBBING AUGUST 15)

The smell of blooming flowers hung in the air, reminding Carmen that spring had well and truly arrived. In any other situation, she might have welcomed it. Indeed, even as a refugee who’d been banished to wilderness, she appreciated the warmer weather. However, it also highlighted a series of issues, not least among them that with the passage of time came the increased risk of hunger.

Her group had long since run out of rations, and though they’d had some degree of good fortune hunting, they were only a couple of dry spells away from having to ration what they had left. But mostly, she was worried about the increased animal activity that would inevitably accompany the warmer weather. Many predators either hibernated or at least slowed down during winter, but now that spring had arrived, they would be up and about. And they would see the ragged group of refugees as prey.

Because for the most part, that was what they were.

Certainly, they could hold their own if they caught a monster by surprise. And against desperate groups of bandits, they could survive well enough. Yet, Carmen knew exactly how close to the edge they were walking, and it was painfully obvious that it would only take a single push to send them all careening over a cliff and into oblivion.

If it weren’t for her responsibilities as a mother, she might have simply given in and let it happen. Increasingly, the simple act of putting one foot in front of the other had become draining in a way she could scarcely articulate. It wasn’t difficult to understand why, either. She’d lost everything. Her wife. Her forge. Even her home. Miguel was the only thing left, and he was the lone thread keeping her from simply giving up.

If she’d been back in Easton, she might have lost herself at the bottom of a bottle. Or maybe she would have picked a few fights. Lost herself in her work, perhaps. However, none of those outlets were available. Instead, they’d been replaced by the tedium of survival, and it had proven a poor substitute.

Because as difficult as it was, survival was not exciting. Nor was it terribly distracting. Long periods passed where nothing happened, and in those moments, Carmen could only dwell on everything she’d lost. On how thoroughly she had failed. People had died because of her. Others had been banished from the only viable life available to them. As a result, they were out in the wilderness with no real civilization for a hundred miles in any direction.

They needed rest.

They needed somewhere they could settle in and collect themselves. Perhaps a place where they could set a permanent life. Maybe they would choose to keep going and look for something more developed. Or not. But for the moment, everyone needed a break from the constant rigors of travel and survival. One was doable, but both at the same time came at the expense of one’s sanity. Carmen felt it as keenly as anyone else.

So, she couldn’t help but feel a tinge of optimism when Colt returned to the column of refugees and said, “There’s a good spot up ahead. Water. Some wild edibles nearby. And a reasonably intact shelter.”

“What was it?” Carmen asked, still trudging along the highway. It made travel easier when they could find a stretch of road, but it was also a grim reminder of the world they’d all lost. It was especially poignant when they stumbled upon an old roadside hotel or a gas station. They’d seen fast food restaurants as well as a few abandoned rest centers, establishing that they were traveling in what had once been America. Every now and then, they’d find something that clearly belonged to other countries as well, which served as another testament to how thoroughly Earth had changed. It was one thing to know that everything had been mixed up and randomized, but it was something else altogether to see a plainly Russian business a mile away from a building from South Africa.

“A high school,” Colt said. “There are a few cars in the parking lot, too. Nothing electric, but you could use the materials.”

“You think it’s a viable place to settle?”

The man shrugged, then reached up to his head, but as had been the case since they’d been exiled from Easton, he was missing his customary hat. For some reason, that struck Carmen as sad. Or wrong.

The lack of his right hand didn’t help that sense.

“Dunno,” he admitted. “Maybe, though. It’s right next to a lake, too. There’s water and shelter, and we can potentially fish for food. Seems like a good start.”

Indeed, it was. And over the past month or so, they’d covered enough ground that they weren’t looking over their shoulders expecting Roman’s people to overtake them. So, they were far enough away from Easton that they could reasonably expect to be left alone. For now. Carmen suspected that Roman had plans for expansion, so who knew what the future might hold?

“Alright. Lead us there,” she said. Then, she turned to the others and let them know what was going on. That was met with no small amount of relief, and soon enough, they left the highway, following a small road until, about five miles later, they came upon their destination.

The school – called Lincoln High School – was nothing special. Just a low-slung series of unimaginative buildings. However, upon initial inspection, it seemed mostly intact. And it was large enough to accommodate their group.

Still, Carmen approached with all the caution of someone who knew just how dangerous their world had become. So, she summoned a pair of blacksmithing hammers – one in each hand – and activated her latest ability:

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