Winter's Song (Theo/Open)

Neva crouched into a squatting position and breathed into her gloved hands, rubbing them together as she surveyed the grey and white blankness all around her. Winter marched on seemingly endless and it was a generally miserable time of year save for the one thing that drove the normally content earth dweller to the surface with other enterprising souls... Snow. With running water now considered a fairy story from a time before the world ended, fresh water in all forms was good as any other bartering item, better. Because clean water was life, as everything below or above ground, knew. But not just any snow was worthy, only clean white snow that was not packed in dirty places that could be boiled for easy sterilisation was worth the minor but very real danger of begin out in the open away form civilization and ripe for demons, despite winter being a low activity time. Low did not mean no activity.

Nevaeh gave another deep shiver and rubbed her palms together before standing, picking up the handle of her wagon, and heading north. She was not alone on her quest for fresh water, town hired scavengers were already gathering the easiest snow for officials, the hospital, and the research facility, and though she was one of the doctors, this was her day off and she wanted to be a civilian, and hunt like them as she always had. She couldn't help a soft smile, remembering when the family first arrived in Manchester, she wouldn't go above ground no matter hoe much Daddy, Mum or Gabe tried to coax her...it was only when Micheal came home form a deployment --and bodily carried the frightened, hysterical girl to the surface every day despite protests-- that she was finally able to appreciate the surface.

That appreciation didn't stop a small start when a show drift shifted and landed a few feet to her right, sounding frighteningly like a heavy footfall. Scale was not something demons knew well, and some of them were larger then comprehension and though she did come to the surface more regularly it didn't stop that nervous flutter in her stomach from growing as she walked inspecting areas under trees and near buildings...maybe she would find another rain barrel as she had last winter, it made keeping water for the tenament much easier. She would have gone for the shifted snow but a load of children descend on it. Good for them. This world was only getting harder and the younger they learned skills like snow catching, the better. Thinking of Micheal bought a familiar pang to her heart, those bitter sweet memories of his laugh, when he went on about his children and wife all the way in France, she wished them well. He was forever trying to convince Olivia to pack up the children and come to England with him, and see the other side of the family but it was mostly impossible for civilians, even the family of a marine, to just travel across both the sea and countries Likely her niece and nephew would live out their lives in France just as she would live hers no further than Manchester's limits. She wished them love and long lives, or mercifully quick ends if it had to come to that.

A half hour's trek bought her out to the country side, it was more dangerous out here with less cover, but as she knew, the snow was pristine, pure and all hers as she began the carefully fill her seven large earthware jugs with as much snow as she could pack, stopping only one to curse as a bird shit in a hands, full of snow, making it polluted and worthless. She threw a rock at the bird as it flew off and...it hit! "Serves you right, flying rat. Well flying dinner." After eating a few mouthfuls and covering her snow Neva picked up the bird and tied it to her waist she new it was about time to head home for the day, despite three layers of clothing over long underwear, she was starting to sweat. The wagon was heavier now full of snow as she lead it back slowly. Keenly aware of the shortcut she was taking, through one of many abandoned buildings and the dangers it could hold... but she was no longer the timid little girl who arrived in Manchester with her parents nearly twenty years ago, keeping her ears sharp and her breathing low and steady she trudged across what were once marble floors of some posh place, listening for anything and hoping for nothing.