Morning came grey and cold, with speckles of chilly dew as the sun barely visible through the thick cloud cover rose to begin its journey once again.

Nero woke feeling marginally better, though his body was still a catalogue of injuries.

Still... he was alive, and that counted for something at least.

The group broke camp quickly. Within an hour, they were moving through the Southern Bogs and retracing their steps toward the main refugee encampment.

The journey back was tense but largely uneventful. They passed the sites of previous battles, stepping over the bones and rotting flesh of Abominations that had fallen days ago. The corruption here was thick enough to taste, existing as a metallic bitterness that clung to the back of the throat.

At least that was how it felt for Nero, who had suddenly become aware of the corruption that sweltered in the air.

Like a dark haze, it existed everywhere.

It was inevitable.

However, coming into contact with miniscule doses was not enough to cause anything strange within the humans.

Surprisingly, there were not a lot of Abominations attacking along the way. Usually, there would have been a bunch feasting on the carrion, not leaving it to stew in rot.

By midday, they emerged from the worst of the bogs and found themselves on more solid ground. The forest here was still dangerous, still filled with things that would happily tear them apart, but it felt almost tame compared to what they'd been through.

They reached the refugee camp as the sun was beginning its descent toward the horizon.

The camp looked worse than when they'd left. More people had arrived, swelling the already overcrowded space to bursting. Makeshift shelters had been erected wherever there was room, creating a maze of canvas and wood that sprawled in every direction.

The smell of unwashed bodies, sickness, and desperation hung over the camp with a gnarly stank to it. Like an inescapable cloud of foul and dark omens.

Nero felt his spirits sink as they walked through the outer edges. People watched them pass with hollow eyes, their faces gaunt from hunger and exhaustion. Children sat listlessly beside their parents, too weak to even cry.

"This is worse than I thought," Lucy muttered.

Obed said nothing, but his jaw was tight.

They made their way to the center of the camp, where Emif and the others quickly bled into the crowd. Word of their return spread quickly soon after and a crowd was already beginning to gather.

Nero noticed several figures pushing their way to the front of the crowd.

Two men and one older woman, all of them carrying themselves with the bearing of people used to authority.

The first man was tall and broad-shouldered, his face marked by old scars and a permanent scowl. He wore the remnants of what might have once been merchant's clothing, now torn and stained beyond recognition.

The second man was shorter, stockier and with dark hair shot through with grey.

The woman was perhaps fifty years old, her iron-grey hair pulled back in a severe bun.

"You're back," the old man said, his voice cracking with age and relief. "And you found it? You found the food?"

Obed nodded. "We did. More than enough to feed everyone for at least a week."

A murmur ran through the crowd. Relief, hope and excitement... all of it rippled outward like a wave.

The tall scarred man stepped forward. "A week. That's good. Very good." He extended a hand toward Nero. "Name's Garren. I speak for the group from Vosche."

Obed shook the offered hand cautiously.

The shorter man spoke next. "Aldric. I represent those who fled from Beorstone."

The woman inclined her head slightly. "Mira. The survivors from Orm follow me."

Nero glanced at his companions, suddenly feeling a bit suffocated by the presence of the three before him.

"We should discuss the distribution," Mira continued.

"Given that you were successful in your endeavor."

"That's why we're here," Obed said.

*Let's find somewhere quiet to talk."

***

They moved to a larger clearing where someone had set up a makeshift table which really just a large flat piece of wood balanced on two stumps. The group leaders gathered around it, with Nero, Obed, Lucy, Geor, and Aisha representing their party.

Emif stood nearby, his arms crossed, watching everything with an unreadable expression.

For a moment, nobody spoke. They all just stared at each other, the weight of what was about to happen hanging heavy in the air.

Finally, Garren broke the silence. "So. Let's discuss how we're dividing the supplies."

"It's simple," Obed said. "We divide it evenly among everyone in the camp. Equal portions based on need."

Aldric's eyes narrowed. "Equal portions? That hardly seems fair."

"Fair?" Lucy's voice was sharp. "What's unfair about making sure everyone eats?"

"What's unfair," Mira interjected, her tone perfectly level, "is expecting those of us who contributed the most to receive the same as everyone else."

Nero felt his stomach drop. He could see where this was heading.

"Contributed?" Obed's voice was low, dangerous. "What exactly did you contribute?"

Garren straightened to his full height, towering over the table. "My people made up the bulk of the foraging party. Twelve men and women from Vosche went into that bog with you. Only seven came back."

"Mine lost eight out of fifteen," Aldric added coldly. "Eight people who died so that everyone could eat. We deserve compensation."

"Compensation," Obed repeated slowly, his hand drifting toward his sword.

Mira's expression didn't change. "My people lost the most. Eighteen went in, nine returned. That's half our able-bodied adults gone." She paused. "Given our losses and the fact that we represent the largest group of survivors, it's only reasonable that we receive a larger share of the supplies."

The temperature around the table seemed to drop several degrees.

"Are you serious?" Lucy's voice was barely controlled. "People died, and your first thought is demanding more food?"

"People died retrieving food," Garren corrected. "For everyone. The least we can ask is that their families are taken care of first."

"Taken care of?" Aisha spoke up for the first time, her voice trembling with suppressed emotion. "Everyone here is starving. Everyone here has lost people. What makes your dead more valuable than anyone else's?"

Aldric's face hardened. "Because our people actually did something. They took the risl and thry went into that hellish place and paid the price. For us. We deserve it." he gestured vaguely at the camp around them,

"That's bullshit," Lucy spat out furiously.

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