Jing exhales, the taste of cheap menthol coating his tongue in wet sticky beads, the only lights available to him being the moon and the faint orange ember hovering just before his lips. The air is cold atop the street lamp tonight, though he counted his blessings. He was still too far from the university to be concerned with hunters, at least just yet.  [color=00cccc][i]"Must be getting near the winter months..."[/i][/color] he thought, marveling at how quickly it had gotten dark. He had left his temporary camp earlier in the day. The neighbors (a small band of humans who were managing to hole up in a autoshop) where abuzz with news. Evidently they'd been radio'd by a friend, saying there was a huge rescue force amazing in Fukuoka university. At least that is what he could hear from eves dropping near the shops perimeter.

He shadowed the group as they began heading towards the university an hour or so later. There was little emotional concern for their safety on his part. Over the last four weeks he'd neither said, nor been seen by, any one of them. He was certain that they knew of him, at least distantly. Shots in the night at the occasional invalid that wandered to close to his own hiding spot, missing rations, or the occasional Cabal of Invalids who would simply just wander away were hard for them to just write off as coincidence. 

Following them was a calculated act of altruism, as was leading away the cabal of Invalids now slapping blindly at the base of the pole confused as to where the origin of the smell that had lead them on a four mile chase was hiding. Regardless of if the sudden increased presence of J.S.D.F was a rescue mission or not, hunters would soon follow. After all, noone was out to save him or other Onyxians. He'd want know what they were doing in when he ran afoul of a hunter, sooner rather than later. [color=00cccc][i]"And if it is a rescue..."[/i][/color] He thinks, dropping the spent cigarette onto the invalids below, the pack tearing at the offending smell. [color=00cccc][i]"The good press from the survivors about how 'safe' the area was should buy me some time before I need to move."[/i][/color]. 

He begins heading back towards the convince store the survivors made camp in, confident he had dealt with the last of invalid problems they would have for the night, leaping from street lamp to street lamp as casually as stepping stones. He writes a chill of unease running down his spine off as yet another symptom of the oncoming winter, and vows to scavenge a coat as soon as he gets the chance.