Another Day in the Bucket (open)

It was cold, but Heather was protected by enough layers of fabric to stay relatively warm, especially when she kept moving. And move she did. The past two days she'd held up in the remnants of what had once been a pretty nice upper middle-class home, but she couldn't stay there.
Heather had no clue what this town was called, all that had mattered was that she had been able to scavenge just enough food to survive for a few days, but most of that was gone now, so so was she.
Her backpack was almost bigger than she was, stuffed with clothes, some bullets, a knife and a number of other items. Her gun was tucked inside her waistband. The upside of that was that it wasn't visible until she pulled it. The downside was that it's size and type also meant that she was easily outgunned.
Her dark hair hung in messy, oily strands around her sunken face. Most of what she was wearing was a few sizes too big, emphasizing the weight she'd lost in the past years when she was already slender to start with.
Dried blood surrounded a gash along the right side of her face and she had a minor cut in her upper lip. The rest of her skin was mostly just dirty.

While staying close to what was left of the houses - some were still standing, others had been practically annihilated by the war - she made here way down one of the broader streets. All she knew was that she was going to keep heading East for now, only reason for that being that she came from the West. She needed to keep moving.
She had noticed the dogs before they noticed her, as she was far enough away the first time they barked. Strays? Someone living there? Her hand rested on the gun, just in case. She made her way around a corner, into the street the barking had come from.
She could see them, in front of a house, but if there was an owner present she had just missed him or her, which was likely a good thing. She kept moving, but once the dogs caught sight of her, they resumed the barking with admirable gusto.
Heather swore under her breath.
A young man came out of the house, rifle on the shoulder. Heather stopped, still a fair distance away from the dogs and their master, and pulled her gun as well, quickly aiming it.
"No one has to has to get hurt!" she called out, slowly coming closer. She made sure she sounded confident, though she knew damn well she was no match for a rifle and a pack of dogs. She'd bluffed herself through situations before and right now it was the best she could do.
"I just want to move past!" she went on.