Oedipus Camp Descriptive Writing

When I finally arrived at one of the camps later that night, I gratefully sat down on a fallen log that had been pushed around the fire and gulped in some much needed air. The camp was just a small clearing off the road. A fire pit sat in the middle with about ten logs around it. There were no tents or signs of shelter aside from a couple of low hanging branches that could provide some protection from a light rain or a particularly bright sun. A thin river ran at the far end of the camp, which was a small incline about ten feet deep with a couple of willows and an assortment of other trees that benefit from the running water. I took the pack off of my shoulder and felt for the small pouch that contained the only thing, besides my sympathies, that I had to offer the small dying boy who would likely visit my mind for the rest of my life. There was only a small piece of stale bread left, although I had tried to make it last. My stomach rumbled at the memory of the last hot meal I had, which had been a fortnight ago at the church during our last check-in. Some of the other carriers that were there looked over from their modest dinners (meals?), while others continued their conversations.
Many say that a Carrier is an admirable job, that without us the world would end, and so on. If you've ever really met a Carrier, well, I'm sorry to say but any position seems better than yours at that point. Being a Carrier is only considered an admirable job from the outside, and let me tell you why: It is only possible for you to become a Carrier if you are an orphan. When you are orphaned-as many of us are now-your first destination is the orphanage, where you are given false information and