Their sentries didn’t even notice me until I was already right in front of them. I couldn’t be sure if that was because they were relying on some other form of detection that my [Low Profile] nullified, or that they were just that unprepared.

“Hey! Raul, there’s someone over there!” I heard a voice call out.

Another figure appeared over the root. Lookouts. They held a hand over their brow, blinking in the sunset. I paused, looked up, and the relief in my expression was genuine.

Survivors. A sign that, even in the midst of apocalypse, humanity persevered.

“Another one?” Someone called down. He was waving me over. “Get up here man. Did you come from the library?” His voice reached me, barely.

I climbed upward, days of traveling multiplied by my clones, and I was already an expert. A pair of rough hands helped me up towards the end.

The stranger was among two others, looking me up and down. “You come from the library?” There was hope in their eyes, wariness in their posture.

“Yeah. I saw the note. From a Jonathan, I think.” I recalled, slightly out of breath. “How many are there?” I said wearily. “How many survivors?”

I wasn’t sure why it meant so much to me. Maybe I was holding out hope that there were more than what I saw. Maybe I hoped that no one else had gone through what I had.

Above, higher still, one of my clones watched. I watched as they welcomed me with open arms, as one of the sentries broke away and headed toward the main group. I watched me and the stranger, Nicholas, converse.

As he recounted a familiar story, except a library instead of a university building. I grimaced as he described the lives lost, the people killed. The number that was left.

“I saw a dozen dead before I could even react.” Nicholas was a bearded man. Aside from that detail, he looked exactly the part of a librarian. Because he was. Had been. He was calmer than I would’ve managed talking about it. “Wolves but worse, is how we put it. Much worse. We count… twenty-two. It should’ve been more.” His wandering gaze focused on me, reluctant but curious. “And you?”

I took a deep breath, trying to let go of the emotions that came with the memory. “There’s a university building, maybe a day or two from the library. That’s where I came from.” I replied bleakly. “Same story, no survivors. None that I could save.” My hands shook as an image of Horace flashed through my mind.

A deep sigh and his hand fell on my shoulder. “Well, that at least confirms what everyone’s been thinking. We’re not the only ones.” He said, giving me a look. “I’m still on watch but one of the others will come to bring you to the camp.”

In fact, I saw them moving to us now, from a different set of eyes. The sentry that had left earlier.

“How’d you manage this far?” Nicholas asked. “The rest of us, we pooled together all these strange abilities and—well, I assume you know about them? If you… lived this long.” He trailed off.

“A Skill,” I replied. “Helps me stay out of danger. But… mostly just luck, I guess.” And it was the truth.

“Better lucky than not,” Nicholas responded.

I saw movement. Not from where I stood next to Nicholas, but from high above. From Second, who watched First below. This was the second time I’d seen one of those wolves, the one Nicholas had just been talking about.

A wolf but much worse. It was fitting. Larger, faster, deadlier. It even looked somehow more vicious and feral. And, unlike the last time I’d seen it, this one was clearly hunting.

It was moving the same way I had seen it do in the plaza. Slow, methodical, and locked onto a singular prey. Focused and intent. I traced its gaze and realized it was staring towards us.

There was time. I’d have to find a way to warn—

“Wolf!” Nicholas called out, suddenly standing. He stared down, finding it stalking amongst the roots. “[Intimidating Glare].” And glared it down.

It actually snarled at him, something like a cross between a roar and a hiss. There was a pressure to his gaze. I was nowhere near the focus of his Skill—because there was nothing else it could be—and I felt its effects.

The creature turned away, glancing back, but retreating.

Above, I sat amazed, quiet, and thoughtful, while the version of me below bombarded Nicholas with questions. So this was the power of another Skill. I realized the other two sentries had alerted as well and were staring around. It made me wonder what they were capable of. What everyone was capable of.

They brought me to camp and I let First meet the survivors.

Meanwhile, my original self was being watched by Third and Fourth. It was a tight perimeter and by now I had armed myself with crude goblin weaponry—all of me, that was. There was little in the way of armor but that was what my clones were for.

As First talked with the survivors, trading stories and experiences, I realized not a single person there was keen on this new world. There were complaints, hopelessness, and general unease. Trauma in the form of dead stares.

“As soon as we get back, I’m going to take a hot shower and forget all this ever happened.” A woman spoke, full of bravado. False hope.

“I’m sure the government will find a way to contact us. Tell us what the hell is happening.” Someone else replied.

“You think any government will hold after this? For all we know it could just be a couple of buildings. Between us and Evahn, there’s only two!” A man whose name I’d already forgotten gestured to me.

“I’m sure there’s a perfectly sound reason for all of this. Once we get home—”

“People have died!” I said voice raised. I looked up at them, fear in their eyes, crazy in mine. I didn’t care, the emotions caught up with me. The pent-up feelings of the last week in this hell. I calmed myself anyway. “There are people dead and you’re all acting like we'll be able to just go home and forget.”

Guilty stares, fearful stares. I realized I wasn’t staring at a crowd of people more capable of navigating this apocalypse than I was. I was looking at regular men and women. Men and women who, older than I, were no less ready than I had been.

It was a painful realization.

That in this crowd of survivors, not a single one stared at the apocalypse and dared to live.