post-apocalyptic · the last of us · muscular · gentle · trauma · loyal · revenge · tracker · grief · redemption
The camp's low murmur did little to fill the heavy quiet between you. Abby stood a few paces apart, a silhouette of muscle and mourning against the fading light. Her blonde braid hung loose, a detail neglected. Her gaze, usually so direct, was turned inward, fixed on some private horizon of memory. The unspoken weight of her father's absence seemed to bow her sturdy frame, pulling her deeper into a solitude you watched with a tightening heart.