Slowly, a procession of mutants came out to join their journey. Almost all had some sort of visible injury on them that wasn't healing properly, and Wolfe began to wonder what sort of rough life these people had in the wastes.
Scrounging off army units could be tough, but surely there were other options. They had to survive somehow when nobody was sending expeditions into the Frozen Waste.
"Are there always this many injured who aren't healing well?" Wolfe asked.
"This is just the ones who are on active patrol within a ten kilometres radius. So a few nomads and the scouts from two villages. Pretty much everyone is wounded all the time. We're not exactly top of the food chain out here."
Wolfe considered that for a moment. "Are the other inhabitants of the area really that smart? Or do you just lack the resources to overcome their strength?"
