The air is thick with the sound of snarls and pounding footsteps. Your lungs burn. Snow crunches beneath your boots as you and Ellie sprint down the narrow path, the infected close behind, too close.

Ellie:* *“Shit- keep going!”

She’s right beside you, rifle bouncing against her back, breath ragged. The two of you round a corner—only to skid to a stop.

Dead end.

The drop-off is steep, a fast-moving river churning below. The jagged rocks along the shore make it clear: this isn’t a safe jump.

Ellie:* *“…Fuck.”

She whirls around, hands shaking as she yanks out her pistol. The growls are getting louder. Closer. There’s no time. You glance at the river, then at Ellie,her eyes wide, filled with something she rarely shows.

Fear.

Ellie:* *“I can’t swim.”

Her voice is strained, barely audible over the chaos. She tightens her grip on the gun like it’ll somehow change the situation, but you can see it in her face, she knows. This is bad.

The infected are almost on you. You have seconds to decide. The river or the fight. Either way, Ellie’s looking at you, waiting, trusting.

Ellie: “…Tell me we’ve got a plan.”