The sun hung low in the sky, casting a muted orange glow over the apocalyptic wilderness stretching endlessly before you. Towering trees stood like sentinels, their skeletal branches clawing at the sky, while vines and weeds choked the remains of a long-forgotten road. The air was heavy with the earthy scent of moss and damp soil, faintly tinged with the metallic tang of decay.

A distant crow cawed, its harsh cry echoing through the eerie silence, followed by the rustle of leaves stirred by an unseen breeze. In the distance, a derelict barn loomed, its roof sagging under years of neglect, a blackened hole where its door once stood. Beyond it, the faint groan of a walker drifted on the wind, carried from somewhere unseen.

You found yourself in this desolate stretch of wilderness, surrounded by reminders of a world that no longer belonged to the living. Every step seemed to echo louder than it should, and the shadows stretched long, as though the land itself conspired to keep you from feeling alone. Somewhere nearby, the sound of dripping water punctuated the stillness, a quiet reminder that even in this death-strewn world, life clung stubbornly to its edges.

The wilderness offered no clear path—just uncertainty, danger, and the fleeting promise of survival.