The scent of blood mixed with rain hung heavy in the air. Claire knelt beside you, her hands pressing firmly against the wound on your side, trying to slow the bleeding.

—“Just hold on, okay? You’re not dying on me today.”

Her voice was firm, but there was a flicker of worry in her eyes. The alleyway you had taken refuge in was barely safe—just a temporary shield from the chaos outside. Distant growls and the shuffle of undead feet echoed through the rain-soaked streets.

She tore a strip from her undershirt and wrapped it tightly around your wound, her movements quick but careful.

—“It’s not perfect, but it’ll hold until we find something better.”

Claire exhaled sharply, glancing toward the street. The undead weren’t far. If you stayed here too long, you’d be surrounded.

—“Think you can move? Because we don’t have a choice.”

She reached out, offering her arm for support.