So, this is a story set in the FallOut universe. I wanted to explore it while still also keeping many things cannon. It will follow two of my OC. Please feel free to comment and write and criticize.
CHAPTER 1
A hot puff of air rose slightly and drifted passed the sun. There was a crisp soft crunch slowly moving in the distance and getting slightly louder. Through the scope she could see it. As the creature searched aimlessly for any sign of food, she held her breath. There was a loud crack, and another small puff of air rose again. The crunching sound quickened but of the opposite direction of the explosive crack. She lowered her weapon. In the distance she watched her dinner run off, any hope of feeding herself for the night running away with it. She let out a long sigh, but the slowly made her way back to camp. It would be a long cold night, even longer without food, but she knew she had scared anything even remotely close to her away.
Through the thick dark frozen woods she slowly trotted. Pushing her face into the lining of her coat, breathing out heavy hot breaths to keep her nose warm and stuffing her hands in her pockets. Though the sun was high, it was still cold enough to turn your fingers black if she wasn't careful. As he methodically made her way back to her campsite, she kept her ears open. The snow covered forest was almost silent. Almost.
She might have been miles away from the next village, but the noises she could hear weren't human anyway. Whatever was howling like the beast it was, was far enough away that she didn't need to draw her weapon. From the sounds of it, it was most likely a pack of wolves that might have stumbled upon the dinner she failed to catch. Regardless, the walk back was slow, cold, and long.
Reaching her campsite as the distant howls seems to get farther away, she crawled into a small hole in the thicket of old dead laurel bushes. It has been an old animal nest, until the previous tenant had become dinner some nights ago. It was behind thick thorns and even thicker leaves. It was tough to see anything in it, and even tougher to penante. It was safe, and in these woods that's all that mattered.
She swung her rifle from around her shoulder, leaned it up against the tree, and began the tedious process of starting a fire. As she mechanically made her way through the process, she began to get lost in her own thoughts. She had been in these woods for almost a week, and there had not been a even the slightest trace of another person. Not a fire, not gun shot, not even littlest shift in the snow. It didn't bother her, it meant she was safe, but it gave her an uneasy feeling in her stomach. It most likely meant something deadly had been living here, or still was. There wasn't any evidence of this claim, but it still was eating at her in the back of her mind, occasionally setting off an air raid siren which would always bring her back to the cold reality.
Once the pile of twigs and dead leaves were in satisfying lump, she began to dig through a bag for her matches. Luckily, while in the last town she passed through, she picked them up and covered them in wax to make them waterproof. The slicing of the match across the side of the box almost seemed to be as loud as a gunshot, echoing through the bushes. She paused for a moment staring at the flame, almost holding her breathe. Placing it in the pile of dead objects and finally exhaling.
Reaching for her bag again, this time with more purpose, but also more relaxed. Digging around she finally came across her map, old, beat up, and full of marks. She had grabbed this map on her way out of the last major city she stopped in. Moscow. It had been a mistake, but she managed to grab a few things before the monster that had overtaken the historic city crept closer than was comfortable, sneaking out with a map, a photograph and a gun. The latter of the two had been in the same locked case. The gun was grabbed because it was older and easier to make modifications to, as well as break down and keep clean. The photograph on the other hand, had grab her attention. The entire case in the museum had peaked her interest, but the photograph seemed to called to her.
The map in front of her was now spread out with a compass balancing on her knee. Always thankful to her father that had taught her how to both read a map, and the world around her, which gave her the upper hand of the unlikelihood of getting loss. With her finger she traced along the wrinkles down to the most recent scribble on the map, lightly passing over names of old towns and the name of this old forest. Some of the names of the towns had changed, either due to war, or the times, but the name of the forest had always stayed the same. The Forest of Argonne. She had made good time since setting her sights on the coast. Not having anyone traveling with her, made it very easy to move from place to place at a moment's notice. Not getting attached helped, but the silence was sometimes louder than any gunshot.
Following the old roads, she found her next destination. Paris. She's would have to take the old D933 route, but it was safer since it didn't have a major bodies of water. She couldn't risk the radiation, not when she was this close to her goal. From Paris, she continued to follow the D933 route to Cabourg, from there she would take up work and hopefully be able to make enough money to get on a boat and head to England. Her father told her tales of massive boats that took people to a from a country across the ocean. Before the war, before many of the wars, thousands upon thousands of people would travel to the country in search of a better life, and she was following in the footsteps of the past. Her father had told her that these ships still sailed, and that one day, she would make her own way in the land across the vast ocean. Because of where she came from, her only chance of getting there, was through England.
Smiling at the memories dancing through her head, she paid little attention the the fire beside her which had finally caught and was crackling. She made little notes on the map of how long and where she might have to make camp along the way. Checkpoints where she might have to stop, either due lack of food or lack of sleep. Judging by the map, it would take her almost two days to get to Paris if she was able to keep up a good pace. She bobbed her head back and forth and sighed. Spending almost a week in this forest in search of food was a mistake. It cost her ammo and it now was costing her time. Continuing to bob her head and hum as each tilt went from shoulder to shoulder, playing with the idea of packing up and leaving now. Looking to the sky, she noted the position of the sun. It was early enough in the day now that most hunters would have given up or settled in with their prey, but if she wasn't fast enough, late enough that the rest of the hunters would start to stir as she would reach the edge of the forest.
Looking around the camp, playing with both options in her head, her stomach started to growl and chern. She would need to eat, and if she didn't eat soon, something would be eating her. With that though processing through her head, she sighed heavy letting out a large puff of hot air as she decided she would leave. She noted the position of the next closest town, folded up her map, picked up her belongings, and covered up the fire. The last thing she did was grab the photograph she had found in the museum from the makeshift shelf she had made, as a silver locket. Flipping the photo over in the hand, she made note of the names on the back. It looked like two last names, one belonging to her, and the other to the second woman in the picture. "Roosevelt" she said out loud, burning the name into her head and tucking the picture into her coat breast pocket. "Roosevelt" she said again, harder and louder swinging the rifle cross her. Taking one last look at her camp, her turned back and pressed forward through the brush.