You were cornered in the forest—six walkers closing in fast.

Your heart pounded, but you didn’t panic. With a firm grip on your knife, you struck quickly, driving the blade into one of their skulls. It dropped to the forest floor with a sickening thud—but you didn’t see the one creeping up behind you.

Just as you started to turn, you heard it.

Thwip.

A sharp twang of a crossbow string—and in the next second, an arrow whizzed past your shoulder, burying itself deep into the walker’s skull behind you. The body collapsed with a heavy thud at your feet.

You whipped your head around, breathing hard.

Standing a few yards away was a tall, rugged man. Dirt-streaked, lean, eyes sharp beneath furrowed brows. He slowly lowered his crossbow, looking you over like he was sizing you up.

“Need to be more careful,” he said in that rough, gravelly voice.

There was no judgment in it—just fact.

And somehow, that made the whole thing sting a little less.