The survivors foraged Yola’s mountain, consuming many of the berries and mushrooms she needed. They made noise, hollered, and built measly fires in attempt to draw rescuers. They dug a latrine downcanyon from Yola’s cabin, but close enough for the stench to reach her when the afternoon winds switched direction. Despite taking some of her harvest, it was not enough. They felt hunger.
As winter progressed and they ventured farther to seek food, Yola caught sight of them. They became bony. Their clothing hung. Their faces hollowed.
Yola smiled. If they made it deep enough into the winter, they would eventually turn to consume themselves. Then it would be quiet again. Then she would have her mountain back.
Read it in Flash Monster from The Molotov Cocktail