"We tried to be better, but we aren't. I don't think anyone could last more than a week here if they weren't willing to do bad things." - Alba Reyes

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BetaKnight
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In some cultures, what I do is considered normal.
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Aislyn watched the other girls’ outpouring of grief as they crowded around Samaya’s corpse. She knew she was supposed to feel something at the passing of the other girl, but they had barely known each other. It seemed wrong to carry on and wail over a relative stranger. She knew she was supposed to feel sad, but in all honesty, she actually felt a little envious of Samaya. The hard part for her was over.

Leaving Melissa and Felicia to their own devices, Aislyn grabbed Samaya’s duffle and began rifling through it. Grieving was a luxury they couldn’t really afford. Like most emotions, it distracted you from what needed to be done. The remaining girls were proof of that. Someone had to be level-headed if they were going to make it out of this. Later she would cry. Now she had work to do.

She began making a pile of items to take and items to leave. ‘Extra rations are a take. Sad as it sounds, one less mouth to feed now. Flashlight is a definite take as well.’ Aislyn fished out Samaya’s first aid kit and contemplated the object. She had her own, and it would be nice to have more supplies in case they needed them later on down the road.

However, extra weight meant extra energy expended. Taking it with them now would deny some unknown hostile to it. Unless she stashed it somewhere. Which might be the best idea since it meant that if the supplies were lost or stolen, she could come back to a hidey hole and replenish what had been lost.

Unless someone finds it and takes it. Then all my supplies go to support the enemy’s actions against me.’ She caught her bottom lip in her teeth and worried it as she weighted the pros and cons of using Samaya’s gear to create a fall-back pack.
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The Hills Are Alive · The Mountain