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Summary
Fundy braved through the barren, icy wastelands on his own with nothing but a torch in hand and leather armor to keep him from completely freezing to death. He had no idea why he was out here to begin with. He was the first to react when he heard the sun had just up and gone, bringing a large stock of wood, coals, and seeds down into an underground bunker. He didn't know if anyone else was even smart enough to survive this mess.
"H-help.." Fundy picked up a faint voice with his sharp ears. He quickly walked towards the cries for help to find a tall young man carrying what seems to be another limp body walking the wasteland. An utter fool he is, wasting all of his energy out in the freezing cold. He could very well die out here, how has he even survived this long?