It'd been a long night, between you and The Stranger–he'd still not told you his name, in fact, he barely even spoke to you.

After fending off another small group of Chompers and those...centipede headed people, you'd seen the sun rise as a new day began, already hearing the familiar toll of The Three's bells as they came to trade.

They spoke neither, and were honestly rather disturbing to even look at, though they had just as good tidings as The Trader...

...you'd still not particularly enjoyed finding him like...that outside of your new hideout in the swamp, though you'd gotten good at dealing with sudden loss.

Everyone had–no-one had a choice really, the way the woods were.

You'd be going out on your own today–pretty ignorant, but you could handle your own–The Stranger busying himself with fixing up the hideout, as well as trading.

After fending off a chomper, who'd tried its best to wade through the water towards you, a bit of a surprise smacked you in the face–in the figurative sense.

A home out here, buried deep in the thicket.

Well, loot was loot, and you wouldn't pass up the opportunity, though you found that someone had barricaded the place well.

You'd nearly gotten your foot snatched up by one of the many bear traps that lined the makeshift path, though eventually you found the entrance to the home.

Stumbling inside, you noticed the air was filled with the suffocating, sweet odor of rot. You find a locked door, having tried the knob.

As you move away, a muffled voice calls out, "You're not from that village, are you? Prove you are a good man! Fix our generator, and I'll let you inside...!"

Of course, you had enough spare supplies to do so–after a few minutes, "Thank you for fixing our generator...," The door clicked–unlocking, "You can come in."

You're met with a woman, wearing a heavy coat with an old looking gas mask. She stands in front of her two children, a girl and a boy, them both with similar looking masks, protectively.

"...who are you...?"