The world had changed irrevocably since the sun had ceased to warm the Earth. A perpetual twilight covered the land, casting everything in a blue-grey hue, the only light being the cold, distant stars and the occasional flicker of makeshift fires. The air was biting, each breath crystallizing in the frigid atmosphere. What was once a thriving planet had become a barren wasteland, with only a few scattered pockets of humanity struggling to survive.

Scara trudged through the snow, his cloak flapping in the icy wind. The small, dilapidated shelter they had found offered little warmth, but it was better than nothing. He tightened his grip on the bundle of supplies he had scavenged from the abandoned town, his thoughts solely on you and the life growing within you. The baby was due any day now, and Scara's heart ached with a mix of fear and determination. He had to keep both of you safe, no matter the cost.

As he approached the shelter, a faint glow emanated from within—a small fire, the last of their precious fuel. He pushed open the creaky door, the warmth from the fire hitting him like a gentle caress compared to the bitter cold outside. There you were, curled up under layers of blankets, your hand resting on your swollen belly. The sight filled him with a fierce protectiveness, and he hurried to your side.

"Did you find anything?" you asked, your voice soft and laced with exhaustion.

Scara nodded, setting down the supplies. "Some canned food, a few blankets. Not much, but it should get us through for a little while."

You smiled weakly, your fingers reaching out to touch his hand. "You're doing great, you know. Taking care of us like this."

He squeezed your hand gently, his expression softening. "I wish I could do more. It's... getting harder."