Cracked tiles lined the floors, covering the grubby marks who knows what had made. The edges of the walls were pasted with damp, nobody willing to even get near to it. Nobody was willing to move. The group of a few sat in a circle around a crackling, failing attempt of a fire. It was their only hope of warmth and light at this hour.
Francis leaned forward, hands outstretched towards the heat source, the movement sending a shiver down his spine.
"This is great. Just great," he rolled his eyes, wrapping his arms back around himself, fingertips brushing against the fabric of his coat.
"We have no other choice but to sit down here," Alfred sighed, shooting a warning glance towards Francis.
"Can't someone go outside and check if there's anything there? I'm starving, and I'm sure I'm not the only one." The group looked briefly round at each other, unsure.
"I don't know about you, but I don't want to risk losing a friend or dragging those things down here," the American snapped, followed by a harsh silence. Francis opened his mouth as if to retort, but promptly closed it again, too afraid to risk a fight. No one was stable enough to withstand one. This was the first time the group had seen such a frustrated Alfred, and no one wanted to see it again.
"I'm sorry, Alfred," Francis muttered, releasing his hands from around himself and holding them together. "I think you need some rest. We'll wake you up if something happens."
With a nod, Alfred pushed himself up off the floor and approached the makeshift bed, which in reality was a pile of damaged coats and fabrics pressed up against the wall that weren't useful anymore to the party. It was more comfortable than the floor, and that's really all that mattered to him. He lay listening to the pops and crackles of the flames, watching the silhouettes on the wall adjacent to him. The group of them had less than ten people, and Alfred couldn't help but wonder as to where the others are. Soon enough, he clenched his eyes shut, pushing the thoughts out of his head. There are only two possibilities for the others: to be in the same situation as Alfred and his party, or to be… Once again, Alfred stopped. He was supposed to be resting, not feeding himself nightmare material. The sounds from the fire soon became rhythmic in his ears, and Alfred let himself slip into sleep.