The Last One

Arc's Journal:

I wonder sometimes whether I will ever find someone else, but I doubt it. I've been here for two summers. Wandering these lands, they are bountiful, but there is no one else here to enjoy them. My name is Arc, and that's all to my name. I don't remember when I was young, but that doesn't matter anymore. I'm alone. I have found some weapons and armor for myself in a local armory I found. Everything's wonderful but I have to ask a question. Why me? Why am I left while all the others get taken. And this land, it is perfectly healthy, would last millenniums. Well, I won't get answers though, it's not like someone is going to come and help me.

I should just die. I'm going to die any ways. Take this sword, and plunge it in my gut. I could do it.

Probably shouldn't.

I found a hat yesterday, it was in this barn by this overgrown orchard. In fact, nearly every thing is overgrown, but what does it matter to me. The hat smelled nice, like some pie, and hey, it had a pin with an apple sign attached to it. But hey, I've found other weirder things. There was a hut in the woods, and it had some fermenting potions in there.

This place is sad, I found a rotting pie tin on the table in the house. Wonder what happened to the folks that lived there.