It was a small house, little more than a square, fifteen feet on either side, that Chey found herself in. Currently she was lying on her back on the dirt floor, staring up at the underside of the thatch roof. The days here were hot and the nights only slightly cooler with the ever-present humidity making her feel sticky with sweat no matter the hour.

Outside the house, she could still hear the prowlers like so many sighs on the wind. Not the growl of beasts that she once assumed would be their call. Almost she thought she could hear words but try as she might she couldn’t tell what they were saying. She’d have to get closer to hear them properly and she had no desire to do that. Not yet at least. For now she still had enough supplies to last her a while.

Thinking about her supplies made her roll over and look at the far wall where she had everything useful piled up and organized. It would last her a week, she figured. She was already rationing it as much as she could and the knot in her hungry stomach was reminder enough that she couldn’t ration it any further. Either she’d be found and rescued or she’d die here. It wasn’t lack of food that would kill her, though. A person could go weeks without food and survive. She even had enough water to last her well into a second week here.

No, it was her lack of salt that would be her doom. Currently she was down to just one last five pound bag. Once that ran out, it would be over. Salt was the only thing that kept the prowlers at bay. As long as there was an unbroken ring of salt around the house, they couldn’t get in. But a ring of salt wasn’t a permanent fixture. Wind and animals alike could disturb the salt, and the prowlers themselves would wear away at the ring over time. She had to check the ring a few times every day to make sure it was still holding, filling in spots where it was growing thin.

She didn’t like thinking about what would happen to her once she ran out of salt. Half her village had resorted to taking their own lives rather than be taken by the prowlers. Chey didn’t know what option she would prefer. The prowlers killed very quickly once they caught their prey, but it was a messy affair that frightened her. She didn’t have anything with her, though, that she could use to hasten her own end that wouldn’t be painful and torturous in it’s own way.

Chey turned over onto her other side and left those dark thoughts where they were in the back of her mind. As far as she knew, she was the last member of her village still alive. No one knew they’d been attacked and her only hope was that some traveling group would come along and rescue her. Prowlers weren’t indestructible, but they were hard to kill and Chey had neither the weapons nor the training needed to deal with them. The village defenders had fought well and destroyed the majority of the prowlers that had assaulted the village, but they’d run out of salt to protect themselves before the last of the prowlers could be defeated. The rest of the village had been too afraid to leave the relative safety of their homes to bring the defenders more salt.

Chey could still hear the cries in her memory from when the villagers realized the cost of their mistake. With no defenders, they were all dead. She ought to have listened to the defenders when they called for more salt. If she’d been brave enough to leave her house and bring them what they needed…but it was useless dwelling on what she should have done.

The whispers outside grew, not louder, but more intense. Had they found a weak spot in her salt line? She hated going out to check on the salt. At least when she was inside she didn’t have to look at the prowlers. Ignoring her discomfort and fear as much as she could, Chey pushed herself up, grabbed the bag of salt, and opened the door. Four prowlers waited for her, their green eyes glinting as they swayed back and forth, ready to pounce. The ground beneath them churned, being dug at by their invisible claws or whatever it was they had. Maybe it was a giant maw across their entire belly. It was impossible to tell with their body being only semi-transparent. Their extremities faded away like smoke.

Besides the whispering, they moved in complete silence, following Chey as she walked the short perimeter around the house, checking on the salt barrier. Even the ground made no sound as it was dug up beneath the prowlers.

She tried not to glance over to her neighbor’s homes but it was difficult not to completely ignore them. From what she saw out of the corners of her eyes, they were thoroughly broken apart. Large holes in their walls where either people or prowlers had forced their way through. All of it stained by what remained of their inhabitants.

Chey found the weak spot in her salt line. Some insects were trying to climb over it. She crushed them with her thumb before repairing the line. Prowlers never bothered themselves with anything other than people. Livestock were safe, and in a few cases it seemed as though prowlers even avoided them. Sheep, for instance, were almost as good a repellent as salt. What she wouldn’t give for a flock right now. Unfortunately, no one in her village raised sheep. They weren’t exactly the easiest animal to care for, from what she’d heard.

Evening was getting close. She’d need to sleep soon. It was a mercy that prowlers also needed sleep and rarely if ever attacked at night. This would likely be her last inspection of the salt before going to sleep, if she could manage falling asleep with her house surrounded by prowlers. With that in mind, she did one final inspection, patching a few other spots that had been disturbed by the prowler’s digging and then retreated back inside.

She allowed herself a little gulp of water and a bite of cured meat before returning to her spot in the middle of the floor. It wasn’t dark out yet, but the idea of giving herself over to sleep now was inviting. At least then she wouldn’t have to face the ever-present dread, knowing what was waiting for her just outside. A few hours of rest would do her good, anyway. A part of her hoped that the prowlers would get in while she was sleeping so she wouldn’t have to be awake for when they killed her.

With that horrific and yet true thought, Chey shut her eyes and began working on falling asleep.