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The sun is lower still, and Wagner was right that there are other threats on the planet’s surface than the Hunters. During the hours of darkness it is not safe to be out on the ground in the open. Sandclaws – a four legged mammal like a warm-blooded crocodile, hunt on the plains at night. Half a mile ahead is the next cluster of ruins – perhaps a dozen buildings. The largest, in the center, has two stories. It is only a concrete shell missing any doors or glazing in the windows, but the upper level safely away from the ground would be a good location to spend the night. Moving steadily but cautiously I reach the ruins without incident, and pick my way through rubble to the large opening in to the building. This entrance is wide enough rough to have been either a garage or double doors, or was perhaps built for a differently proportioned non-human species. Sand has blown in and flooded the floor to a foot depth. Thankfully this place isn’t another chamber of horrors. Inside there is little except the rusted frames of objects that were once furniture. The sand shows no sign of recent disturbance, but all the same I scout through the ground floor rooms cautiously, making sure that this place isn’t already occupied, before finally making my way up the eroded steps to the upper floor. I tiptoe around and recon each of the upper rooms. Here too there is no sign of life or any recent visitors. The upper rooms have the same hollow window spaces, with the glass vanished probably centuries ago. Out of the openings there is a drop of twelve feet to the ground. A sandclaw would be unlikely to be able to jump this high, or climb up to surprise me. The sun is below the horizon, it’s darkening rapidly and already getting difficult to see. In the very last room on the upper floor is an unexpected bonus. A steel door is blonde intact, but off its hinges. If I could push it into back place I could seal myself into the room. Anything trying to reach me during the night would have to break through my simple barricade, giving me enough warning that I can jump out the empty window cavity. The door is heavier than it looks, and it makes a terrible scraping noise that must be audible for a quarter of a mile. But I manage to shift it across over the room’s opening, and I feel satisfied. As soon as that’s done exhaustion catches up with me. It was only hours earlier I awoke from unconsciousness to find myself a Rape Runner, but since then I’ve been in a permanent state of fear, with the adrenaline spiking into blow fetish job terror when I so nearly got caught at the pit. My morning appearance on the pantyhose stage was eventful too. “Yes, but the bigger question is: are blonde you still okay with it?” Playing dump, it is, “Shit did I sent pantyhose blow job you this Video? It had never been this strong. There was still no clear winner as both women were more determined to have their tits torn off before giving up. She gave it a hard smack. “Plus the money, fetish rough I guess.”