Spere and Windy had walked for what seemed like miles, all around the epicenter of the car, calling, and shouting. Still, no sign of Rebel or Cloudy. If they didn't want to freeze, then there was nothing left to do but pack up, and continue down on the path towards Vivos. Spere had some hope that that's the direction Cloudy and Rebel had gone; perhaps they'd left a note that read about leaving early to save time but it'd been blown away by the wind. Even so, Spere didn't cry. She didn't feel sadness. She knew Rebel and Cloudy, and she knew that they wouldn't abandon them. But she also knew that they were strong, and whatever had happened, she had a gut instinct that they'd be okay and reunited with her and Windy in a short time. Maybe it was a foolish hope, but it was her hope nonetheless, and she clung to it tightly.

But that hope seemed to fade fast. As they walked down the barren and desolate streets, nothing but abandoned cars and old farmhouses and acres and acres of fields and land to keep them company, a heavy and loud sound erupted from the air: the familiar and dangerous sound of dogs. The sudden barking caught both Spere and Windy off-guard, and frightened them. They had no gun to protect them this time. But there was an odd thing about the echoing sounds, too. Spere was so used to the wild canids of this world to have deep and heavy howls, or loud and scratchy yodels. These sounds, which still obviously came from a dog, didn't sound like any dog that Spere had heard before. Instead, they were short and frequent, very high-pitched yaps. And, the most frightful thing of all, was that it sounded to be hundreds of them. A whole army of strange, perhaps even deadlier canines.

They didn't know what to do but continue walking, at a faster pace now. If they got caught in a car, they'd be dead for sure. But another odd thing Spere noticed was that the dog's odd barking didn't change in loudness; the dogs were staying in place, not coming closer, nor moving farther away. And that, that was what peaked Spere's curiosity and replaced her fear with interest. She knew it'd be foolish to walk towards the unmoving barks of a hundred or so dogs, but it was such an odd thing, she simply had to.

"We should check out what's going on," Spere said. "There's only one house close to this highway for miles, so I'll bet that's where it's coming from," she pointed ahead at a rather upkept farmhouse, far from the road. The barks remained distant.

Windy scoffed, "No. Do you want to risk our lives?"

"What if Cloudy and Rebel got caught there?" Spere asked.

"Don't use them as an excuse to fuel your own foolish curiosity," he hissed.

Spere crossed her arms, "Fine then. I'll just go by myself," and began walking off the road.

"Spere!" Windy stood in place for a moment, frustrated, and groaned, but then began to follow her. There wasn't a steep ditch on this side, which Spere was thankful for. She didn't know how she'd feel if she had to walk through another steep ditch with Windy beside her. Plus, it was less work this way. The snow, once off of the road, was very deep, reaching halfway past her ankles, and seeping wet and cold through her pant legs. She and Windy both heaved through the snow, slowly making their way to the farmhouse. Now, it was close enough that Spere could make out the dull red painted wood paneling, the faded and cracked windows, and the dirty, white front door. It had a broad wrap-around wooden porch, layered with thick, icy snow. The dog's barking had grown louder and louder. Not from in the house, but rather, behind it. Spere was curious, but didn't want trouble. She walked past the porch, followed by Windy, and around to the backside of the house. There, in the backyard, was rows upon rows of tall, silver chain-link fences, densely packed snow layering the sides. Spere walked down the middle aisle of the kennel, where the snow was shallow and mudpacked, and admired either side of her, where the cages were.

"What is this place?" Windy asked. The sharp barking was nearly unbearable now, and each cage had a few dogs in it, with doghouses and water bowls and tall rusted feeders. The dogs didn't look like anything Spere had seen before, and instead of being tall and lanky and pale, they were very short, and fat, and dark, like pigs.

Spere just shook her head, "Some type of dog farm. I've never seen a thing like it before."

"Looks like a zoo that's still in stock," Windy scoffed. "What are we looking for?"

"I don't know. Any sign of Cloudy or Rebel? Would they even have come this way? Maybe this was a mistake," she sighed.

"They had the gun with them," Windy said. "They can defend themselves." Spere nodded. Then, in an instant, a gunshot rang out from somewhere behind them. Spere and Windy jumped, and turned back to face the house, where a man stood, holding a familiar pistol in his hand, aimed at the sky.

"Guess they don't have the gun anymore," Spere said.

The man, tall and thickly built with a grey beard, shouted gruffly, "Git! Are y'all stealing my stock?!"

Windy stepped forward, "No, sir! We just came around to see what the noise was about. Thought the place been abandoned." Spere nodded in agreement, and took Windy's hand, hoping it'd make her feel safer. If there was one thing she knew about Windy, it was that he could be ruthless. Nobody stood a chance against him.

The man huffed, hooking the gun to his belt, "You folk step forward. Come here. You know two drunk boys done been making trouble on my land?" Gently, Spere stepped forward, shaking now, less from the cold and more from the fear.

She spoke, steadily, "We know two boys, but they weren't drunk last we saw." The man huffed, and entered the home through the backdoor, holding it for the two. They nervously stepped in. He shut the door behind them. The house was dated, with cabin-like walls, animal skin rugs, leather couches, and lit by lanterns and candles.

"Well," the man scoffed, "They was drunk when they ended up on my property, wildin my dogs on purpose." Spere didn't know what to think. Could Rebel and Cloudy have been the drunk boys? Who else could it have been? Spere and Windy blindly followed the man through the open living room, and then to a door. The man creaked it opened, and held out a hand to welcome the two in.

Spere stepped into the room, her shoes clicking with each step on the glossy wood floor, and her eyes widened as she saw Cloudy and Rebel. Rebel slept on the bed, and Cloudy sat up at the foot of the bed, looking pale and sick. He turned at the click of the open door, and his eyes widened as he saw Spere, and he immediately stood from the bed, but stumbled, and fell into her arms. She couldn't help but laugh with relief.

"What's wrong with you?!" she scolded.

He held his arms around her waist, and slurred, "I'm so glad to see you." The older man pushed past them and set the gun on a light wooden side table, then walked back out and into the living room. Windy moved over and sat on the bed, gently attempting to pry Rebel awake. Spere helped Cloudy over to the bed, and sat down beside him.

She repeated, "What's wrong with you two?"

Cloudy chuckled drowsily, then explained, "After you two fell asleep, we decided to do some late night scavenging, to get some time to ourselves."

Windy muttered, "How romantic."

Cloudy sighed and continued, "Well, we found a bottle of unopened vodka, and figured, why not!" He chuckled dryly now.

"Oh, Cloudy," Spere couldn't help but smile, and placed both hands on his cheeks. "You are both dumbasses!" He chuckled, and swatted her hands away.

"The guy here," Cloudy said, "He's not a bad guy. I think we should stay for the night." That made Spere nervous.

She shook her head, "I'm sick of trusting strangers."

Windy scoffed, "You rather us and two drunk guys go out into the snow to try and find shelter?"

She sighed, "Point made. We can stay here, but I want to stay up, just as a watch. Just in case."

"We can alternate," Windy suggested.

"Good idea," she responded. She knew it would be a long night.

The next morning, the man, who's name turned out to be Jack, short for Jackalope, made the group a large meal of boiled dog meat and canned peaches. It was the best meal Spere had ever eaten, and the only warm meal she'd ever seen. Then, he sent them on their way, and a long walk ensued. Cloudy and Rebel both seemed sick, or hungover, but as to be expected. Spere merely thought that what comes around, goes around. Their own fault for getting drunk. Despite her anger towards them for their decision, she also wished she'd been as brave and open as that. She wished she could have reckless fun like that sometimes. But she knew she couldn't. She never could. She didn't think she could ever genuinely have fun again. But even so, she tried to make the most of life. Recently, it'd been tiring to even try, though.

The group travelled for what felt like forever. They travelled for days, and nights, fighting through the cold and rationing their food and water, eating snow occasionally, although even now, it seemed hard to find snow that wasn't grey toned with ash. The freshest layers, however, seemed to be pristine, and a shade of white that stung Spere's eyes when combined with the new blazing sun she wasn't used to seeing. Her eyes were sore, and her head hurt. It seemed as though their journey would last forever. It had been about two weeks of walking, and sleeping in cars and unfamiliar homes, and still, although they'd seen map markers and directions, they hadn't found anything that even alluded to getting close to Vivos Bunkers. Except, of course, that they'd circled the spot that was supposedly marked with X about a hundred times.

They walked on a back gravel road, layered with ice and snow, a few trees dotting the land that surrounded them. It was miles of empty and open land, nothing but snow and snow and more snow. Like fields, but larger. Bored out of their minds, Rebel and Cloudy walked behind Windy and Spere on the path, skidding in the snow, laughing, and throwing snowballs. Spere felt at ease with them playing around like the kids that they were. It felt like at least one thing was right with the world, and she smiled. And, inevitably, she was hit in the back of the head with a freezing clump of ice. She gasped, the cold stinging her scalp, and whipped around to face the two boys, who both stood wide-eyed and guilty, pointing at each other and failing at hiding their laughter.

Spere laughed, "Oh, you two are in for it, now!" And quickly made her own snowball, dropping her bag to the ground. Then, aimed it right at Cloudy's face, but missed. Windy was laughing now, too, and threw his own snowballs at the two boys. They'd separated into a sort of two teams, fighting against each other, throwing snow back and forth and watching as the compacted ice would burst into powder as it hit their arms and sleeves and torsos.

One was shot at Spere, and she stumbled and fell backwards into the snow, laughing breathlessly. Grinning, Windy loomed over her and held out a hand. She took it gratefully, and he helped her to her feet in the deep snow. But, as she walked past him, his smile faded, and his expression grew grim. She turned around, wondering if he had thought of something poorly, but was instead met by a scowl.

"I thought I'd lost it," he hissed, and bent down to pick something from the ground that Spere could not see, but knew what it was. He presented to her the necklace, which must have fallen from her pocket. She forgot she had it with her. She'd nearly been able to forget all of the bad stuff that had been brought with it. She had been a fool for not destroying it. But how could she have? She'd been with Windy for every second after. And now, she didn't know what to say, and didn't have an excuse. "Did you steal this from me?" He asked again, tense. Cloudy and Rebel had stopped playing, and simply stared.

"Windy," she finally said. "It was changing you."

He shook his head, flustered, "Spere, I thought that we were good. I thought I could trust you."

"You can," she said, her voice getting higher pitched as the fear crept in. The fear of losing him. He clipped the necklace around his neck, folded his arms, and walked off the road, into the dense snow of the field to the left. Spere followed him.

"Spere," he growled, "You had no right."

"Neither did you!" She hissed, angry now. "You saw how that stupid thing affected us!"

"No, Spere," he shouted, glaring right at her, "How it affected you. Just because you're too weak to handle the visions-"

She scoffed, "The visions? Are you hearing yourself?" She yelled, "He tried to make me kill people! Kill everyone around me!"

"And you've gotta push through that!" he yelled back.

Spere shook her head in disbelief, "What the hell happened to you? It's that damn necklace. The moment you put it on, all the sense left your body."

He rolled his eyes, "Spere, that's insane. I just want us to be on the same team."

"That's all I want, too!" She begged. "I want us to be together and that stupid white cat was in the way of it!" She let her body become overwhelmed with the hot feeling of rage. She turned her eyes down to Windy's feet, where the black kitten stood, spitting. "Him, too!" She said, and with a swift smooth movement, scooped him up from the snow.

"Hey!" Windy shouted. "That's just a cat! He was yours!" Spere held the black kitten up by the scruff, away from her body in disgust. It writhed angrily in her hand.

"Take off the necklace," she said shakily, slowly pulling the pair of weaponized gloves from an inside coat pocket. She'd stopped carrying them in her bag so she could access them easier. She slipped one on, then held the kitten with that hand as she put on the one with bladed finger tips.

"Spere!" Windy shouted. "Stop!"

"Take off the necklace!" She demanded again.

"No!"

She glared at him, "Watch me." She didn't want to do this. She didn't have time to think as she was suddenly thrown into the snow on her side, Windy's thin body pummeling into hers. She elbowed his side, knocking him off of her and into the snow beside her. "It's just a damn cat!"

He shouted, "Then put it down!" He pressed over her, pinning her hands into the snow. She released the cat, which had scratched all up her arm now, and it ran away. Then, she dug the sharp nails of the glove into one of his wrists, and he yelped in pain, and pulled away from her, where she was able to squeeze past him, and began running farther down the field. Rebel and Cloudy followed them, now, shouting for them to stop fighting. Spere didn't pay any attention. She was overcome with a primal instinct to survive. An instinct of fear. To flee. But Windy was taller and stronger than she, and caught up to her quickly, shoving her face first into the snow. She coughed, taking a mouthful of cold ice, and then flipped herself around, backing up in an awkward crawling motion as Windy loomed over her.

"'Maybe the cat was right," he said, slowly taking steps closer to her. "Maybe he was right about you."