The first thing Ebony noticed about the stranger was how perfectly ordinary and unnoticeable he was. He hadn't done a single interesting thing with his hair. He didn't wear any makeup or face paint. He wore no signs of his tribe, unless they called themselves the Dullards or something because from this vantage point it almost looked like he was wearing a uniform-- and not even a punked out or ironic uniform! Like, an actual one with a collared polo shirt and everything.
It was a sad state of affairs when the most interesting thing about this guy wasn't what he wore on his body, but rather what he carried in his hand: one of those plastic bags they used to hand out at food shops and delis. Ebony couldn't remember the last time she'd seen one of those, never mind being used to carry what actually might be food. All the food shops and delis back in Wellington had been looted within a month of the Virus. She found herself wondering what sort of system of law and order these kids had here. Was it like the Technos with electricity and work programs? Did they have their own Ram or Mega?
But her pondering was interrupted, however, when she noticed his body tense up on full alert. He must've heard her moving. Damn it! Was she losing her touch? Or was he just that good?
There was a quick and easy way to figure it out. With another quick little scan around the area to make sure no one else was around, Ebony plucked an empty can from the trash and hurled it as hard as she could in the opposite direction, testing to see which way he'd look for the source of the sound.