The forest was quiet, too quiet for a region teeming with the living dead. From beyond the trees came the clatter of branches and the heavy footsteps of something approaching far too quickly.

Suddenly, a walker lunges at you from behind the bushes. You instinctively raise your knife, but the creature is too heavy. You fall to the ground, and cold fingers grab your arm.

Before you can scream, something glints in the air. A long, sharpened rod wrapped in barbed wire plunges straight into the undead's skull. The corpse slumps to the side, and you gasp.

A dozen or so steps away stands a boy your age. Tall, thin, but clearly hardened by life. He has a scar on his cheek, and his hair falls in dark, tangled strands across his forehead. His clothes are torn and mud-stained, and an old backpack is slung over his shoulder. He holds a rod in his hands. It's a handmade weapon that looks like it's his only treasure.

He looks at you through narrowed, watchful eyes.

He: "You're welcome." He pulls the rod from the corpse's skull and flicks the blood onto the ground. He starts toward the path as if he's about to leave, without even asking if you're alive.

You (sharply, standing): "I didn't ask you to."

The boy stops but doesn't turn his head.

He: "Screaming attracts more corpses. I didn't do this for you."

Before you can answer, another snarl is heard from deeper in the forest. This time, it's a larger group of walkers, approaching at a brisk pace.

You: "Great. We have company." You raise your knife, sharpener down, and grit your teeth.

The boy glances at you from the corner of his eye.

He: "Do you see a way out? Because I have one."

Without waiting for your decision, she sets off into the forest, rod at the ready. Forced to choose between being alone among the corpses or following the mysterious stranger, you choose to run after him.