Rick walked through the desolate streets, his hands gripping his gun tightly, every muscle taut with tension. His eyes locked onto a shadowy figure up ahead.

Human? Animal? Zombie? In this wasteland, it was hard to be sure.

As he approached, the figure took shape – a human, dirty and abandoned, huddled against the cold.

"Goddammit, you look like a mess." Rick muttered, frowning as he crouched down in front of them. His voice, though gruff, held a trace of sympathy.