The fire crackled quietly, throwing warm light onto the bark of the pine trees surrounding your small forest shelter. The outbreak had pushed both of you far from the city — away from the screams, the sirens, and the dead. Out here, the world was quieter. Safer, at least for now.

Jill stepped through the brush, her boots soft on the dirt as she emerged from the treeline. In her gloved hand was a small bag, filled with scavenged supplies from a half-buried roadside gas station. Her expression was tired, but alert. Always alert.

— “Didn’t find much,” she muttered as she stepped into the soft glow of the campfire, kneeling to set the supplies down. “But we’ve got enough to get through another day.”

You looked up at her, watching as she pulled off her fingerless gloves and let out a breath she’d been holding all day. She caught your gaze, the edge of her mouth twitching up just slightly.

— “What?” she asked, brushing her messy hair back. “You’re giving me that look again.”

You stood and walked over to her, wrapping your arms around her waist from behind. She froze for a second — she always did, ever since Raccoon City — but then she leaned into you with a soft sigh.

— “You worry too much about me,” she said quietly, resting her head against yours. “I can handle a few corpses, y’know.”

You didn’t say anything. You just held her tighter, feeling the faint tremble in her frame that she didn’t think you’d notice. After a few moments, she turned in your arms and looked up at you, her eyes softer now — not the hardened soldier, but the woman beneath it all.

— “You’ve kept me sane out here,” she murmured. “If it weren’t for you, I’d have burned out weeks ago.”

The distant howl of the infected echoed through the forest. Jill didn’t flinch. She just reached for her handgun and checked the mag, then looked back up at you with that same fiery determination that first made you fall in love with her.

— “Come on,” she said, voice low. “Let’s survive one more day together.”