Scavenging in the Rain

This tribe is known as the Pale Ones. They dwell at the very center of the dead city, emerging from an old subterranean shelter. More organized than most, their ways are rigid but fragile — a flickering echo of a lost civilization.

A woman from the Pale Ones tribe, in her forties, trudges through the soaked ruins of abandoned pharmacies and clinics in the heart of the old city. No longer young enough to bear children nor strong enough to hunt, she now scavenges for what remains — pills, antiseptics, faded medical kits hidden in rusting drawers and shattered glass.

Drenched by cold rain, with strands of wet hair clinging to her tired face and her skin streaked with mud, she pauses in exhaustion. Her eyes, hollow and weary, reflect both resilience and quiet despair. Her slumped shoulders speak of years of survival, but she still clutches a battered satchel — knowing that any item she finds might save a life.