The Nameless Survivor (Valkyrie) Read Online Free PDF

said to myself, “Dinner!”
     
    supplemental;
     
                  Silently I stared down at the feeble girl sleeping in my bed, staring for an unperceived amount of time.  Disturbed, bewildered, and in complete disbelief. Still I pondered if she was real, or if I had finally lost my mind. What concerned me even more, selfishly I admit, was the drain she would ultimately impose on my supplies.
                  Needless to say, I am also concerned with my hospitable inadequacies. I never did enjoy social gatherings back in the old world. People, in general, tended to annoy me. So aside from work I generally kept to myself in my small apartment. However, after five years of solitary confinement I am in no way prepared for entertaining guests, I am not even sure what I will say when she awakes... If she wakes.
                  The girl is maybe only fifteen or sixteen years of age, barely a woman, but not quite a child. Her hair - matted with dirt and god knows what else, and her attire reeked of urine. She was a pathetic mess, however her young beauty was still able to repel all that filth.
                  Most of the clothing stored about my cabin was unsuitable for her, and her petite form made it all the more difficult to find something. An old Grateful Dead t-shirt and a black pair of sweat-pants is all I was able to scrounge up. The shirt was definitely a little too big, but the sweatpants fit perfectly. Soon, when winter eases up, we will have to take a day to loot and raid for more clothes.
                  Setting the ragged attire at the foot of the bed I grabbed a large pot from the fireplace and stepped outside to gather snow for boiling. It was falling even harder, large clumps smacked me in the face with one splat after the other. Although I was still chilled to the bone, the icy pelting was quiet refreshing.
                  Straining my rickety bones, I knelt down and filled the pot before setting it aside for a moment.
                  Pulling out my pipe I quickly struck a match against my belt-buckle and eagerly began to smoke. Leisurely I puffed away, drawing in the sweet skunky smoke, and then blowing circles up into the air. The snow immediately broke the rings, sending them spiraling out of control and eventually vanishing into the night air. With a sedated grin, I puffed a little more.
                  It was a perfect winters evening, the crisp air, and the smell of freshly falling snow, the purity and savageness of nature at its best. Although this is the most difficult time of year, it is also one of my favorites. There is an unexplainable tranquility brought on during these months, something that is both cherished and feared.
                  Off in the distance the unmistakable sound of wolves filled the crisp air, howls and wails like ghosts in the twilight. An eerie sound, almost supernatural, music to my ears. It's been at least fifty years or more since wolves populated this area, driven to extinction by both mans greed and fear. But, since the fall of man, nature has just now begun to reclaim itself.
                  The wolf symphony came to an abrupt end with a succession of high pitched yelps and squeals. A botched hunt, mistaking the damned for food. There sacrifice simply ensured another safe night for us.
                  Nervously I placed the pipe back into my pocket, gave one last look up into the falling snow, and then grabbed the pot before stepping back into the cabin. Without a second thought, and with a quick flip, I latched the door shut behind me. Just in case.
                  Setting the pot on top of the wood-stove, I turned my attention to my freshly killed feast. The skin peeled off the carcass fairly easily, like stripping wet jeans from my legs. Normally I would discard the entrails of any animal, yet with the lack of food, the guts became