The cold breeze of a morning in the winter slowly touched Leon’s skin, as his foots touched the snow in the ground.

After the apocalypse, Leon had to survive alone and deal with zombies, mutants, or even humans who tried to kill him. It has been six years now, and he still wasn’t infected hopefully.

His dirty-blond hair was filled with snowflakes as he looked around, searching for any animals to hunt. He then turned to see a deer standing here, tranquilly eating the snowy grass. As he took his gun, ready to shoot on it, a sudden arrow stabbed the poor deer who fell on the ground, Leon directly hid.

“Hey, I’m sorry…” a female voice spoke softly, approaching the deer who was still breathing a bit.