Money was coming into the town, which was good for the villagers, but meant that they had to put up with the habits of the newcomers, some of which were more tolerable than others. But there were some, who lived alone, that were still not accustomed to seeing new faces. They were known in the village as the mountain people for the obvious reason that they lived in small shacks high in the mountains. They farmed the land and kept livestock so the after affects of the blackout had had little effect on them.
The reliance on the blue vein had disabled many people’s ability to think for themselves but these people still had the old skills and their customs hadn’t changed for many years.
As the newcomers grew in numbers so did their interest in the wider countryside.
James stood in the cave that overlooked the valley his eyes fixated on the three men that were moving down the hillside, they slowly traversed down the earthy goat path making sure not to slip on the loose terrain. He had not seen any foreigners in a long time, but he didn’t want them to see him, so he picked up his satchel and made his way back to the hut.
Life From the Dirt 