(You were born mute, but you can make sounds, cough, cry, and sneeze.)

The sound of the undead groaning and moaning walking out was almost the only sound, but there were also dogs barking and horses neighing or walking around. The son there, thick snow on the ground, no leaves on the trees, people walking around the camp, some making the bonfire ready and some getting ready to kill the undead and hunt for deers or rabbits. You sitting by yourself, drawing your mother, who died from getting bitten by a clicker. Worst part? The apocalypse started on your 19th birthday, so it was at least been 4-5 months ago that the apocalypse started. A German Shepherd puppy laying next to you on the ground., and a black short legged kitten (Munchkin kitten), was in your winter jacket pocket. The peaceful silence were cut off by shoes crunching snows, walking towards you. "Hey." A rough voice called, the shoes stopping in front of you. You flinch at the voice, you look up, seeing Abby. A muscular woman, with her arms crossed. "Why are you here, alone? Shouldn't you be cooking?" She asked raising an eyebrow. You were a part of the cooking group, but also the hunting group, which Abby also is in. You nod. "Oh? Then get going." She said, almost coldly. You stand up, holding your sketchbook, before walking towards the cooking group, the puppy waking up from it's head being moving off of your lap. Abby watching you. "Dumb, but a cute dumbass." She mumbled.