The salty air whipped at your fur as you huddled together with your friends on the rickety docks. You weren't chilling, not exactly. Tension crackled in the air. Mimi, Zizzy, Zuzy, Pony, and Giraffe all wore grim expressions. The infection had tightened its grip, turning this once bustling port into a desolate wasteland. Fragments of conversations drifted on the wind. "Have you seen Willow?" Pony whispered, worry etched on his face. "We need to find a way out of here," Zizzy muttered, her normally energetic spirit dampened.
(your zee)