"Ho-I'm not a traitor!!" Mosilaire was suddenly awakened by some deep buried past events, and his still somewhat trance brain was immediately activated by the cold air poured into his lungs.

"Damn it......" She slapped off the snow that had fallen on her body, moved her numb left arm, and struggled to lean her upper body against the wall.

There was also a small campfire in front of Mosilare, which was littered with reddish coals, and there was no heat to illuminate the dark snow room, and it looked like it was almost completely extinguished.

Fortunately, there were also a few pine branches on the side of the fire that could be used to relight it. Obviously, these natural fuels with rough skin are picked up from the snow by people for their time.

As to who it was, Mosilaire didn't think it could be Bender, for Bender was the poor creature who was lying beside her right now, and looked like he had been unconscious for a long time.

Little by little, Mosilaire pulled away from Bender's blood-stained coat with his right hand, only to find that the wound in his abdomen seemed to have been sewn up with something, and that some white cotton cloth had been carefully wrapped around it. Although the rescuer's bandaging technique looked a little rough, he still managed to save Bender's life.

During his own sleep, Bender fought a fierce battle with the gangsters who followed him - but they all survived, so the ghostly damn scum must have lost - ah, where did the guy who asked for help from the fringe colonies go?

Mosilaire looked around, but apart from the shocking bullet marks and blood stains on the concrete walls, she really couldn't find a third person in the cramped, easy-to-see room - unless the guy was really into pranks, and would rather stay in the dark dormant pod than find a chance to scare the colonists of the two fringe colonies—there wouldn't be such a boring person, would he?

Oh - she forgot to look at the ceiling - but naturally, there was no sign of the helper on the ceiling.

Haha, Mosilaire had already guessed that the upper side would not lie on her stomach, after all, not everyone can be lucky enough to be bitten by a harmless magical spider.

But where is it?

She tried to shake Bender's shoulder, but he just rolled over, muttering something he couldn't hear, and fell asleep again.

It was still cold inside, and it was eerily quiet.

Mosilaire coughed twice, threw himself on his side, and used his right arm to move little by little towards the firewood two meters away. Although she had tried her best to avoid the wound on her left arm, she sometimes suffered from sudden, severe pain, so she crawled very slowly, very, very slowly.

But there is an end to this torture.

Mosilaire picked through the cold firewood and threw into the nearly extinguished wood pile of small pieces of flakes that were easy to ignite.

The withered pine branches were a little prickly, and they were stained with unpolished cotton snow, and when they were thrown on the reddish charcoals, there was no more sound—the temperature of the charcoal pile was too low to ignite it.

Mosilaire used a stick to remove the center of the fire, so that the hot red coals could be exposed.

The charcoal, which had not yet been completely extinguished, shimmered a clear, warm red glow in the cold air—she seemed to be able to feel the heat they were transmitting.

Mosilaire sniffed, placed more dry leaves on top, and carefully poured a puff into his mouth.

"Whew-"

"Whew-"

The charcoal became more red, but it still didn't burn!

"Whew-"

"Whew-"

Oh no...... The pile of charcoal was about to be extinguished by the cold wind she exhaled! Hurry up, hurry up!

"Whew-"

Crackle!

The cedar branch, which had been burned black and red, could no longer stand the scorching heat, and was ignited in an instant, and a small spark staggered out of its belly, illuminating Mosilere's pious countenance with anticipation and longing with a soft orange light.

This small flame soon grew stronger under careful care, and the swaying posture transmitted precious heat to the surrounding area.

Mosilaire thought about it, but dragged Bender to the edge of the campfire with great difficulty, so that he could sleep more comfortably - Bender was a little heavy, so she pulled a deep mark on the ground - and let him lose weight when he returned!

However, the slightly blessed fellow slept more soundly because of the precious warmth, and his body, which had stopped trembling, soon relaxed completely, and even snored soundly from his mouth—well, it seems that he was not so badly injured.

The rekindled heat of Mosilaire blocked the biting cold air that penetrated through the cracks in the snow bricks at the doorway, and finally stabilized the temperature of the dilapidated building at about -10°C in the violent rise - the heated air was "pleasant" compared to the wind and snow outside.

Mosilaire took off his snowmelt-soaked gloves for himself, rubbed his dry face, and pulled his own jug from his bosom.

The water in the pot was already cold, but because of the close storage, she could still feel a hint of heat when swallowing, so it was not very unacceptable to drink.

Mosilaire tried to feed Bender some water again, and although the guy was still unconscious, he naturally swallowed all the water that flowed into his mouth.

Mosilele straightened his overcoat for him, and then remembered to find his charged rifle - oh, this high-precision advanced firearm was lying where she had slept, and something had pressed it into the thin snow—and Mosileelle finally knew why there was a dull pain in his back.

She pursed her lips and lit her bracelet by the warm campfire—it was 9:27 a.m. on November 30 in the D37 calendar—it was their third day, and she didn't know what was going on in the fringe colonies.

Mosilaire looked at the fire and sighed weakly in the pain in his left shoulder—hoping that his companions were still safe—hopefully...... Family...... Peace over there.

"......Woooo Gollum—"

But the intestines are emotionless—they only eat and hungry—and it's not bad to be heartless.

Mosilaire shook his head and threw the twig he was playing with into the burning fire.

Because she had taken such a dangerous situation into account when she went out, she and Bender actually carried a lot of survival supplies.

Mosilaire looked around a few times, and finally found two backpacks stacked together in a corner - they were their backpacks!

She gritted her teeth and dragged her two backpacks to the edge of the fire with one hand, rummaging through the red-hot light to find what was left inside. It's just that the backpack is horribly light, which makes her feel a little bad.

Mosilaire and Bender's backpacks weren't very large, and they didn't have a lot of stuff, and judging by the shriveled way they made people laugh, they probably had been touched.

Indeed, there was little left in the cotton backpack except for the warm cotton coats and quilts that had been taken out and draped over them—they had been unconscious for days, so Mosilaire only stared at the flickering sparks, and knew that the vanished food might have been fed to her and Bender's stomachs.

But where did that fellow—the poor victim they had rescued—go?

"Gollum-"

When I woke up, my stomach was screaming and fussing like crazy, like a naughty boy who couldn't eat ice cream and rolled all over the ground.

She's so hungry!

Mosilaire sighed bitterly and rummaged through it several times before he managed to find a few hard pieces of dried sweet potatoes and rice crackers in the compartment of Bender's backpack - to tell the truth, Mosilaire thought she could swallow all these things that didn't even cover a slap.

Mosilaire wasn't reconciled at all, so her curious head almost got into her backpack - she just wanted to find something to eat - she wanted to eat!

The effort paid off, and she grabbed a small piece of jerky from the corner of her backpack that had been missed—she remembered it, it was from the wild duck she had caught a long time ago!

It's nice that she now has two lumps of black dried sweet potatoes, three nail-sized pieces of rice crackers, and less than a tael of salted duck jerky – maybe with a little more food collection, she'll have a food store of her own!

"Ahh

A slight scraping sound suddenly came from outside, sounding like something stepping on the soft snow.

Mosilaire stopped what he was doing and quietly grabbed the charged rifle beside him.

"Ahh

"Ahh

"Ahh

The sound continued, and it sounded closer—it was especially harsh in the dead silence of the little room, and even the occasional sound of sparks exploding from the fire only set off its eerie and abruptness.

She straightened up in an extremely slow motion, steadied her activated charged rifle in front of her, staring intently at the entrance to the building covered in snowbricks, and held her breath.

The undisguised footsteps stopped—oddly enough, but Mosilaire showed no signs of relaxation—for the sound of snow churning from outside the entrance was followed by the sound of snow churning.

She guessed someone wanted to come in—maybe something.

But the footsteps and the churning of the snowdrifts were not small, and she thought that the undissipated blood here had attracted lone wolves, brown bears, or other medium-to-large hunters—as for the zombies? They have been frozen by the cold airflow.

These carnivorous and greedy silverfish have always been reluctant to miss such a feast in the hungry and cold winters—though there is no free flesh at their fingertips—but how do they know that the corpses that have fallen here have been removed?

The already smelly smell of blood didn't stop them from sneaking in to find out, and Mosilaire didn't bother to talk to the beasts—not to mention that she rudely thought they couldn't understand the imperial Chinese at all—and she was ready to shoot.