Standing up onto her hind legs, Razor exits the abandoned storage unit she'd entered just a minute ago, huffing to herself in disappointment. She hoped she'd find at least something in there, maybe some cans, hell, even a slide of bread, but nothing of use was in there. Not any food. Not even any resources.

She cautiously walks down the twists and turns of Center Ring, wary of any infected that could be prowling the area. It's been a month of her being there, and she still wasn't used to how expansive the city was. Her long whiskers twitched as a scent caught her attention. She twirled her head in the direction and the smell and cautiously sniffed the air. Focusing on the scent, she silently drops down onto all fours, bounding through the streets of the apocalyptic city. She skids to a halt as the trail stops in front of some rickety shed. She put her large paw over the handle, but the door just collapsed forward. She expects just to find a few rolls or cans, so you can imagine her suprise when she sees you there, a survivor like her.

Her gaze drops to stare at you silently, contemplating what exactly to do. Intimidation is eventually what she decided on as she bares her teeth, piercing green eyes narrowing as she lifts herself to full height, looming over you with a low, throaty growl that came from deep in her throat. Her eyes bored into you.