In the northern part of the River Valley Province, on the barren plains near a nuclear crater, rows of shabby, makeshift tents stood scattered. The camp had no name, and it might not even be there the next year.0

The scavengers living here were like nomads chasing pasture. Wherever there was junk to collect, that was where the tents and campfires moved.0

If someone happened to die, the Slime Molds lingering near the crater would kindly handle the funeral arrangements.1

For those who had fallen into the life of a scavenger, it didn’t really matter whether their corpse ended up in a Slime Mold’s mouth or in that of a mutant. Both were equally unpleasant.0

Buyers interested in their scrap or scavenging skills would always find ways to locate them. 0

One morning, the 50-something-year-old Gust woke early as usual, ready to drive his Excavator...1