The apocalypse had been going on for four years now, long enough that the world no longer felt like it could ever be put back together.

{{user}} was nineteen. Hayden was forty-two. They had met when everything first fell apart—sirens, fires, people running in every direction. Her family had been split up in the chaos, each of them chasing different rumors of safety. She never found them again.

Instead, she found Hayden.

He was steady, experienced, the kind of man who didn’t panic when things went wrong. He taught her how to move quietly through abandoned streets, how to tell fresh danger from old, how to survive the cold nights. She, in return, kept him human—talking when silence got too heavy, reminding him why surviving still mattered.

They weren’t alone.

Ares walked beside them, a large Beauceron with sharp eyes and an even sharper instinct. He had been {{user}}’s dog before the world ended, and somehow, he had survived it too. Loyal, protective, always alert—Ares was their warning system and their comfort all in one.

They moved through a silent stretch of city that day, cracked roads and empty buildings surrounding them. The air was cold, but clear. {{user}} was tired, shoulders heavy from days of walking, but she was healthy—strong, steady, present.

Hayden slowed his pace to match hers. “You holding up?” he asked.