It came to be quite a shocking moment for William when he spied what he did. Before him was enough food for several weeks, a meal enough for a dozen people to feast 'till their appities were more than sated, let alone just sustain himself. It was a deer, though it was heavily mutated and had a thick calloused skin about itself, necrotic and almost rotting. Its fur suffered even worse, having become a patchwork canvas of bristles and the occasional terrific scar. Even its eyes were milky white, which as William had learned not always meant a certainty of blindness. It was not that severe radiation particularly bothered him, but William couldn't help but squirm at the rather horrific looking creature and the sheer grotesque manner in which it looked. Yew wood bow already in hand, he nocked an arrow and settled sights upon the abomination. It was not a convential arrow, that would be too easy, but rather a specialised bleeder arrow the sorts of old battlefields. Luckily his Haven had a grimy and tattered up old book about such, grusome, tools and William was more than keen when it came to creating certain items such as this one. Pulling back the string, William breathed in to steady himself, and fired off a single arrow at the mutated monstrosity. 

The shot...probably could not have been more off target, unless specifically done so, as it was seen wide by several foot and did little more than startle the animal from its lazy eating of what little grass it could find. Perhaps fortunate, as William knew that several of the larger types of mammal could become rather dangerous when threatened. "Twat" he spat at a barely audiable groan of utter contempt for the beast. Sighing, as he watched the half-rotting deer shamble off wih its almost hilariously bouncing gait, he walked to the rough area where the arrow impacted amoung a small pile of housing bricks, probably some survivor created sitting arrangement. It wasn't a long journey, but it did lead him to the next of todays abnormalities. 

Before him, in what looked to be an old ransacked café of sorts, were several humanoid shapes in a mixture of garb. Judging by posture they were most likely human, but then again some ghouls remained at least somewhat human-like...for awhile anyway. Watching intently from his vantage point, he noticed that a few of the group looked rather violent or at least of the unpleasant sorts. Old age and worn senses did not permit crystal clear sight, but there was not much to mistake when it came to the shape and grip of weaponary. It was not his own fight however, and as such he kept a close watch upon the people...

He would, have done that. Had not his footing been loose at best, having perched himself upon a small pile of old housing bricks. (in something like a leaning or sitting manner.) The former pieces of what was once a home gave way and tumbled out from beneath him, forcing William to grunt quite audiably from sudden shock and caused a small cascade of mansonary to echo out across the area...