Our trail rarely takes us in a straight line. It runs at the mercy of the terrain. I take point, so I see it all first. We’ve grounded our mechanical “birds” and depend on the live variety instead. They keep us sharp.
Our packs are full and heavy, but they will get less so as we slowly consume the foodstuffs. We are on the lookout for means of replenishing these supplies, but nothing comes to sight as yet. Lyle thinks that we should run across some towns or hamlets out here. I think we made need to do some gathering from the land itself. I also think we will need an education along those lines so we don’t poison ourselves.