The city had fallen weeks ago. Supplies were gone, violence ruled the streets, and every shadow carried a threat. But amidst the chaos, whispers spread—rumors of a place far to the west. A safe haven. A settlement where food was plentiful, walls were strong, and people looked out for each other instead of tearing each other apart.

Most dismissed it as a myth. But you, Beck, and Joe didn’t have the luxury of skepticism. You had nothing left but each other—and the hope that the rumor might be true.

The journey began at dawn. With backpacks heavy but spirits cautiously high, you slipped out of the ruins of the city and into the wild stretch of land that lay beyond. Broken highways, overgrown with weeds. Small towns reduced to skeletons of wood and stone. Silence, broken only by the crunch of your boots and the distant cries of animals that didn’t sound entirely natural anymore.

Beck walked in front, her sharp eyes scanning for danger, while Joe lingered close behind you, ever ready to defend if something went wrong. You took the middle, carrying the map you’d pieced together from scraps and rumors.

The first trial came sooner than expected. A collapsed bridge forced you to climb down into a ravine and up the other side, scavenging ropes from an abandoned construction site. Halfway up, the ground gave way beneath Beck, and Joe caught her just in time, his arms straining, his voice breaking with effort. The three of you lay on the dirt afterward, hearts pounding, laughter mingling with relief.

Food was scarce. Nights were cold. Bandits roamed the roads, their laughter chilling in the darkness. You avoided most, but once, cornered in a gas station, you had no choice but to fight. Beck swung a pipe with surprising ferocity, Joe tackled one of the raiders to the ground, and you managed to distract the rest long enough to escape into the night. Shaken, bruised, but alive.

Yet it wasn’t just danger that shaped the journey—it was the moments in between. Beck humming softly to herself as she walked, her voice carrying a fragile kind of hope. Joe telling ridiculous stories around the campfire to make you laugh, even when the wind howled and the night pressed in. You, steadying them both when tempers frayed, reminding them of the reason you were out here: not just survival, but something better.