Survivors do what they can, they do what they must. To survive is more than a matter of will, it's also a little bit of luck; and if you survived...are you really all that lucky? Those were her friends last dying words to her and they continued to rattle around in her brain all morning. "Are you really all that lucky...are you really all that lucky?" No, I'm not; she thought to herself. The morning mist hung heavy in the air, blocking out the morning sun and it's warmth. Dena closed her eyes and tilted her face skywards, letting the stillness of the morning wrap around her till she started to wear it like a cloak.

Not lucky, but not dead either.