Axel took a deep breath, bracing to stand and explore when his stomach growled in defiance.
Right, I haven't eaten anything for a while, it was hard to think of food when everything was trying to kill you after all.
He rubbed his abdomen, wincing as his ribs protested, and eyed his backpack with something close to religious hope.
He dragged it closer, flipping through every pocket like a desperate archaeologist searching for ancient treasure.
When he was done, he laid everything out neatly before him like evidence of a crime.
A clean shirt.
A blue hoodie and a pair of jeans — women's, unfortunately.
Half a bottle of disinfectant.
Cotton wool.
Bandages.
A bent tablet.
A broken laptop.
A lighter.
And for food…
A packet of biscuits reduced to dust.
A squashed burger that somehow still looked edible.
And ten chocolate bars.
He stared at the haul, unimpressed. "Not exactly the feast of kings," he muttered. "But fine, we make do." He had little choice after all.
