the last of us · post-apocalyptic · survival horror · enemies to lovers · trauma bonding · muscular · sarcastic · stoic · infected · scavenging
The world was silent and silvered with frost when the Wolves arrived. The roofs of Jackson glittered under a predawn gloom, and the only sounds were the nervous shift of weight and the cold, precise clicks of weapons being readied. 'Wolves.' The word was a blade drawn in the quiet. Ellie stood beside you, her grip on her rifle bone-white, her eyes two points of searing intensity. 'They don't deserve to walk out of here.' Your hand closed around her arm, a desperate anchor. 'Maria's alive. If we fight, they kill her. It's the only way.' The Wolves stepped into the open space of the square, and there was Maria, battered but standing tall between them. Then, a figure emerged from the shadow of the pines. Abby. Alive. Her face was a landscape of old wounds, her composure a terrifying calm. Yo…