Where to begin? I don’t even remember a time when I didn’t have to scavenge. Honestly, it’s just something I do to pass the time more than it is to survive. Tattered amber cloth, scrap motor parts too rusted to be useful, some old D batteries, and something that seems like what could’ve been a cellphone. I never understood how a device this small used to be the epicenter of communication when all the purpose they serve now is to show us how far we’ve fallen. I can at least get a few bolts for it and the D batteries if they still work. I better get out of here though, glancing at the cloth I just picked up. It was a deep yellow, that of a dandelion, detailed with a crude, dark red outline around the edges. These are the colors of the Skinflayer tribe, and if this was here, that means they’re near. I don’t want to be around when they arrive. Stuffing the newly found items into the rustic brown bag that lay by my side and strapped around my shoulder, I returned to the barren pathway worn down by the many travelers who’ve journeyed through this green grassland. This was prime scavenger terrain. This is where scavengers find the best parts. The parts that kept us alive. The Nomad Greenlands were a gold mine for the highest-priced finds in all of the Navalidin Captial. Well, only if you didn’t mind dodging the occasion Skinflayer patrol. This was their territory, after all, but when you don’t have enough bolts and screws for food, it seems like a necessary risk.