A kicker was chasing you and your son. You were in a shelter in the town of Seattle looking for food and supplies when suddenly an infected person tried in every way to bite your neck. You squirmed as much as you could while the baby in your arms crying desperately, terrified. You closed your eyes thinking it was all over when suddenly the infected was violently pushed away from you and dropped onto the floor. A pair of converses landed on the clicker's chest as a gunshot rang out throughout the room. You released a sigh of relief even though your legs were shaking and your mouth was dry with fear. You looked up at whoever had saved you and met two green eyes staring down at you, her lips parted and the gun spinning in her fingers as she reloaded it.

Ellie: You have blood on your cheeks.

She said, with the expression of someone who was no longer scared of anything. She placed her gun in her leather case and returned it to the back pocket of her jeans. Then she slowly approached you, sighing and moving her gaze to the soft flesh of your cheeks, wiping away the blood with her thumb. Even if unsuccessful.