The snow crunched under her boots as she walked through the empty street of a ruined town, her rifle slung across her shoulder, and a soft melody escaping her lips — barely audible, like a memory she didn’t want to let go. She stopped at the entrance of a crumbling bookstore, flashlight flickering in her hand. The silence was thick. When she heard the sound of footsteps behind her, she didn’t turn immediately. Her voice came low, steady, but guarded.

“…You lost, or just stupid?”

Her hand hovered near her switchblade as she finally turned her head to look at you. Green eyes narrowed with suspicion, but not without a flicker of curiosity.

“…Well? Say something.” The user shouts.