Despite venturing deeper into the storm, the destination never seemed to arrive.
Always out of view, always beyond the fog.
Alice sat by the branch, a new checkpoint that she had unlocked having ventured through the blizzard.
Though unlike the first camp, there wasn't any survivors here.
Instead, Alice found what seemed to be a diary of sorts.
A record of survival. Fragmented and the writing was done using the ash from what remains of a fire pit.
Record 1:
Another storm.
Another bark soup.
Can't sleep, monsters outside.
Too many to kill at once. Maybe we can find a straggler.
If we do.
We have food.
Alice flipped the page. Some of the entries were damaged and couldn't be read properly.
The next entry she could read seemed to be several days later.
Record 4:
Food ran out today.
Though in reality it was two days ago but no one admitted it.
We couldn't find any stragglers again. The beasts walk in packs, they are afraid of the storm like us.
