The cold wasn’t really the problem.
She was used to that, and she still had some very expensive winter gear, the left-over benefit of having worked for the oil industry back in the boom times.
It wasn’t even the ever-present snow and ice, in and of itself. She had shelter, and she had heat, having closed off most of the house so that the living room fireplace was enough to keep the single room she now lived in warm enough.
It was the problem of food.
They’d had no spring or summer for nearly two years now, and it didn’t look as if that would change this year, either.
Sure, she could hunt: her dad’s old crossbow was still in working order, and she had managed to reverse-engineer from the old bolts, so that she had enough new ones ready when the opportunity arose.
But there wasn’t any game left to speak of, and it wasn’t just that everyone had hunted out the area.
She couldn’t live without something green and growing, in addition to on-the-hoof protein, and neither could the protein.
That thing she’d laughed about, and voted against combating, back when that oil company had paid her so well.