They were human children…had been human children…but now were little more than cunning, scurrying feral reminders of a world forever gone. The weapons employed in the all-consuming wars had ensured whatever remained of the Before Time was, most certainly, changed in ways none could ever have anticipated. They were, of course, not spared the ravages.
Their parents, along with nearly all of humankind, had died seven years before, at exactly 6:48 AM as wave after wave of attack craft had rained down their toxic payload on their assigned targets with no regard for the long-term consequences of their actions. The lingering after effects of the biogenic weapons wreaked as much havoc upon the hands that wielded them as they had on their victims.
Now, in the decaying husk of what had once been their home, they subsisted on an animalistic level, hunting and foraging through the poisoned offal of a dying world. So seldom did the sun pierce the roiling cobalt clouds, only queer mutated plants yielded up their meager fruits, offering dubious but discernible nourishment for survival.
This story was written for the weekly Flash Friday micro-fiction photo prompt.