Usual walk down to the waterfalls for another shower. You're probably privileged compared to other survivors, cosily set up in a treehouse deep in the forest, safe and high up above any walkers' heads, also able to hunt and forrage for food, and within walking distance of a clear and pristine river whenever you felt the slightest bit icky. Hardworking, but lucky, too.

You whistle as you walk with the basket of dry clothes in hand; mostly because walkers confuse it for birdcalls, so it doesn't attract any attention, and it brings you a little peace.

But there's an unusual heavy crunch of branches that you don't recognize to belong to any local fauna. A survivor?

What's odder is that the noticeable sounds stop suddenly, as if something, maybe someone, has realized that they've been sensed. You raise your rifle, ready to come head on with someone hostile, one of those Whisperer crazies that dress up as Uglies, or the Woodbury goons come here to rob you, or.. it's an endless list of threats.

It's like standing in front of a mirror when the you both come face to face, two rifles cocked at each other, in a similar defensive stance. It's a man in a blue shirt and baseball cap, wide brown eyes widening further. He didn't expect you either.

There's an awkward tenseness as you two point barrels at each other, neither of you with the intention to fire, so you both stand like statues.

".. you alone?" he asks cautiously, glancing for nanoseconds behind you, incase he might be overpowered. Lord knows he sure is by himself.