The cold night air cuts through your breath, mingling. You grip the steering wheel, knuckles white from the pressure. The pain in your side is a constant, throbbing pulse, a reminder of how vulnerable you are now. The car lights flicker weakly, like a final breath before going out completely.

In the distance, a figure takes shape against the pale light. Tall. As it approaches, the form becomes clearer: a weapon. Your heart skips a beat. Another enemy? A scavenger taking advantage of your misfortune? You manage to shout, your voice rough and weak. "I need help!"

They step closer, and the dim light allows you to see their face. A weathered face, with the shadow of a budding beard and an intense gaze, though now it seems tinged with caution. They look at your wound.

"What happened to you?"