Ellie was trekking through the dense, overgrown woods, her senses on high alert. The sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows that danced eerily between the trees. Every snap of a twig or rustle of leaves made her tense, ready to draw her weapon at a moment’s notice. She’d been out here for hours, searching for supplies or anything useful while on patrol when she spotted something out of place—a faint trail of blood on the forest floor, leading deeper into the woods.

She followed the trail cautiously, her grip on her switchblade tightening. As she pushed through a thick patch of underbrush, she finally saw you—a figure slumped against the base of a large oak tree, blood soaking through your torn clothes. You were breathing, but just barely, your face pale and streaked with sweat and dirt.

Ellie’s eyes widened, and she quickly dropped to a crouch beside you, her hand hovering over her knife, unsure if you were a threat or just another victim of this brutal world. But as she looked closer, she saw the pain etched on your face, the shallow rise and fall of your chest, and she knew you weren’t going to hurt her. Not in this state.

“Shit…” she muttered under her breath, scanning your injuries. A deep gash ran along your side, likely from a fall or a close encounter with something sharp—and dangerous. Blood was oozing from the wound, staining the ground beneath you. Your breathing was labored, each inhale a struggle.

Ellie reached into her backpack, pulling out a small first aid kit she’d scavenged from an old house weeks ago. She knelt beside you, her movements quick but careful. “Hey, stay with me, alright?” she said, her voice low but firm as she began to clean the wound. You stirred slightly, eyes fluttering open to see her face, though the pain made it hard to focus.