Towards the lodge

Status: Uninfected

Your Equipment: Battered sandals, Ragged Panties, Hunting Jacket, Ragged Tank-top, Ragged shorts, Hunting Knife, Pistol (3/7)

Your Inventory: Canned food (7), Bottled Water (14), Flashlight, Batteries (2), Duct Tape (3'), Twine (12' roll, 15' length), Blanket, Tattered Sundresses (2), Ragged Panties (3), Cabin Keys, Pistol Ammo (23), Pistol magazine (7/7), Tarp, Beef Jerkey

The lodge is now the nearest place that might have supplies, that doesn't have Infected between you and it. You light off towards it at a rapid pace, another keening wail resounding through the deep shadows of the forest driving you onward. It isn't long before your legs are burning, and your chest heaving in the thin air, but you **** yourself to continue, dodging trees that materialize like massive wraiths from the darkness.

You can feel your pace slowing as you continue your **** climb up the mountain. The thin, cold air and constant incline are taking their toll on you, and exhaustion is beginning to nibble at your thoughts. To make matters worse, as you've climbed higher, the snow has gone from patches on the ground to a thin, powdery blanket about 3 inches deep, getting into your sandals with every step. Your feet, despite your exertions, are getting rather cold, and frostbite is becoming a concern, too.

The wails of the Infected seem to have died off somewhat, dropping farther back behind you, though it's hard to tell. The cold, crisp air and darkness means every sound carries remarkably well. You take that as a sign that you can stop for a moment, and lean against a nearby rock jutting up from the ground, it's cold surface penetrating the thin material of your shorts and panties almost instantly. Your chest heaving, you take a moment to drink a bottle of water, and try to regain your breath again. Now that you have a chance to look around, you realize just how dark it is, and just how clear the sky is on this cold night. The brilliance of the stars distract you from your troubles for a moment, and you revel in them, looking up between the sparse, scraggly trees that dot the mountainside around you.

Your wondrous moment of peace is rather abruptly broken by the snap of a twig nearby, resounding like a gunshot through the crisp, night air.