There was thick gloomy fog in the air and much like fog, so were the people passing by me. Everyone now looked emotionless, some with dirty torn clothing and in poverty as they now believe there's nothing else left for them but to just survive the wolves attack.
I turn into a left street out of the two and spottes the big crooked sign written,' Bill's Best Beer' ahead. All of the houses and stores were close together in Whistle Bergde which made us a canned feeding ground for the wolves.
The walls of the bar were painted black, there were also two windows at the front and though the roof would probably not last another two years, the place was still standing. It was a simple building. I walk up the stairs and kick at a flew away paper on the front porch before pulling open the entrance door.
I dragged out a stool and spun in the direction of the counter, a smirk took my face, "You know what to do."
