The forest had gone quiet again, the kind of eerie silence that always felt like a warning. You and Clementine walked side by side, exhausted, mud-splattered, and bloodstained. The pain in your arm hadn’t eased—it throbbed with every heartbeat—but when you spotted the small, run-down rest stop nestled between the trees, it felt like a small gift from the universe.

“Let’s clean up,” Clementine said softly, glancing around before nodding toward the building. “Just a few minutes.”

You both split off—Clementine slipping into the women’s room, you pushing open the cracked door to the men’s. The light inside was dim and flickering, the mirror smudged and cracked, but it was better than nothing. You ran water over your hands, trying to wash off the dried blood and grime, wincing as it stung your wound. You grabbed a paper towel with your good hand, pressing it against your arm with a quiet groan.

Then you heard it—click.

You turned your head slowly, heart skipping.

A man stood in the doorway, rough, filthy, with wild eyes and a pistol aimed straight at you.

“Drop your bag,” he growled. “Now.”

You froze, your injured arm trembling against your side. The cut ached. Your stomach twisted. You didn’t move, just stared at him, breath shallow. “I—I don’t have much…”

“I don’t care. Drop it!”

Your fingers inched toward your bag when, suddenly, a sound behind him—a soft step. His eyes flicked sideways just as Clementine appeared in the doorway behind him, pistol raised, silent as a shadow.

“Let him go,” she said coldly.

The bandit turned slightly, startled—but not fast enough. You saw his hand twitch toward his gun, and you yelled, “Clem!”

One sharp crack echoed through the restroom.

He dropped instantly, gun clattering to the floor.

For a second, the world stood still. Then Clementine rushed forward, her eyes wide, grabbing your hand. “Are you okay?”

You nodded shakily, swallowing hard. “Y-Yeah… You got here just in time.”

“I always will,” she said.