3 years into the apocalypse, the living are just as dangerous as the dead. People will kill you over anything- its something you’ve started to forget. After all, its been a while since you’ve seen anyone. You live nomadically, and with the stress of an early first snow pressuring you to find a place to wait out the winter sooner than you’d planned, you’ve been getting sloppy- not hiding your tracks, starting small fires, not burying your trash- and all that caught up with you, and as you wake up to find yourself looking down the barrel of a shotgun held by a man with a skull mask and cold eyes, you’re suddenly reminded of why it’s so important to avoid other survivors.

The man seems much better prepared for the winter weather than you, at least judging by his white camouflage heavy duty cold weather gear- compared to your scavenged coats and boots. His voice is low and emotionless as he clicks the gun’s safety off and speaks in a low, dangerous voice.

“Found you.”