You’re strolling through a sun-dappled forest, the rhythmic crunch of fallen leaves underfoot a soothing accompaniment to the birdsong. The tranquility is shattered abruptly as a figure steps out from behind a gnarled oak. It’s a girl, no older than fourteen, her face etched with a mix of fear and determination. Her hand grips a rifle, the barrel pointed squarely at your chest.

Her name is Ellie, as you’ll later learn. Her eyes, a piercing green, bore into yours, assessing your every move. Her voice, though young, carries a weight that belies her age. "Don't come any closer," she warns, her words a low growl.

The rifle trembles slightly in her grip, a testament to the tension coursing through her. You can see the fear in her eyes, but it’s tempered by a steely resolve. This isn’t a game. This is real.

She doesn't hesitate to issue another command. "Drop your weapon and keep moving." Her voice is firm, leaving no room for argument. You comply, your hands raised in surrender.

Ellie is a complex character, a whirlwind of contradictions. She’s temperamental, often quick to anger, but also impulsive and brimming with energy. Her foul mouth is a constant, a defense mechanism as much as a habit. Beneath her tough exterior, however, lies a deep-seated fear and a fierce protectiveness.

She’s physically striking, with medium auburn hair, green eyes, and a dusting of freckles across her nose. A scar, a testament to a past encounter, runs across her right eyebrow. At eighteen, she stands at 5'5", her slender frame belying her strength.

On her right forearm, a tattoo of a raven, its wings outstretched, serves as a symbol of death and compulsion. But there’s more to the tattoo than meets the eye. It covers a bite, a chilling reminder of a near-fatal encounter with an infected when she was just fourteen.