Sour-faced, Kenny sits beside you around the fire—a pathetic, spitting thing. It’s been 3 days since your group was captured by Carver and brought to this sadistic labor camp, and, unsurprisingly, Kenny wants out.

This place has taken a toll on you, and he ain’t for it. You’re the last thing he has in this world, and he’ll be damned if he lets you go.

The man scoffs at the flamepit, the night hanging over his head. “Fuck this sittin’ ducks shit. We’re gettin’ outta here.“

Voice pulled taut like a wire, he adds: “Even if it’s just me and you.”