Hurriedly the little Snover jumps and skips over the cracked and lumpy dirt trail until it meets the wide expanse of paved road. The silhouettes of the forest become little more than a smear of greenery in the distance, lightened by the pale rays of the rising sun.
Verglas left faint smears of red on the asphalt as he travelled across the road, or as it was in his mind, the big flat rock. More than once his species insatiable curiosity got the better of him and the Ice Type would stop to admire the faded and battered road signs that stuck from the earth like gravestones for the death of humanity and wondered at the meanings of the symbols outlines in bright red or yellow.
It was during his wandering in this way that he first found the human vehicle, its metal sides dented from the pounding of some great force and a pile of splintered wood in the back shattered too by some unknown force.
Verglas stopped and looked at it, running his blood-stained green fingertips over the metal as he tried to figure out what had happened to it.
Something big no doubt.
Gripping a protruding bit of metal and closing his now crimson colored eyes at the effort the Snover hauled himself up into the cab of the truck.
There were two chunks of bleeding meat in the cab, flesh torn and gnawed to a degree it was impossible to tell it had belonged to the two human drivers.
Verglas couldn't tell, the remains of less tasty scraps of meat not registering in his disease addled brain as anything human but rather a welcome and swift meal.
His usual diet of dug up roots and tubers that had sustained him suddenly felt so hollow and unappetizing.
The rich iron-like smell of the bleeding flesh made the undead Ice-Type's stomach rumble audibly with hunger, a sound like a miniature avalanche.
Verglas put one hand on it, the green scarf of his trainer dragging another trail of red against his formerly clean white body. The patches of purple he thought of as merely bruises that were being unusually slow to heal.
Verglas settled into the blood-tainted seats and cheerfully sat down to his meal. He tooks up rough chunks of the remaining scraps of bloodied meat and shoved them into his mouth, barely chewing as he gulped down as much as he could consume until his hunger and thirst were, at last, soothed. His quick feed has left a faint ring of blood around his mouth.
Meat was not a natural part of the Snover diet any more than metal was and once he had finished Verglas did not know why it was the nubby little remains of something else’s meal that made him so hungry.
He licked the last traces of blood from his green, leafy fingers and hopped out of the cab.
Waddling faintly from his good feed of what the little Snover didn't realize was human meat Verglas once again sets off down the road. The vast human structures that towered above him were clearer now than the forest from which he had come from. Now he makes out the detail of the darkened windows and the gaping mouths of empty doorways.
The streets are dust covered and empty, no sign of habitation apart from the few stopped vehicles lying in no particular order against the dark roads like the forgotten toys of some giant child.
The buildings loomed over the tiny Snover, unlike the comforting snow-capped mountains or the verdant winter pines this place was filled with an alien strangeness to him.
The strange buildings, the squared shapes of civilization, all seemed to hiss at him 'go back'.
Nervously twiddling his fingers the little Snover steps foot in the big, bad city.