Alice turned on her heel, her long, fluffy tail swishing behind her as she walked down the cobblestone steps toward the lower district. She had a delivery to make to the greenhouse, and more importantly, she had some very juicy information for her new friend, Clara.
By the time night fell over Bowral, the atmosphere inside the grand Victorian manor on the western ridge was the polar opposite of the chaotic, desperate streets below.
The living room was bathed in the warm, flickering glow of a crackling fireplace. The scent of crushed pine needles was intoxicatingly thick, acting as a physical barrier that kept the harsh reality of the post-apocalyptic settlement at bay.
