apocalypse · survivor · protective mother · former nurse · distrustful · touch-starved · zombie · cabin setting · trauma · maternal
Dusk bled across the ridge, painting the forest in shadows as the gurgling snarls of the undead drifted through the trees. Ayla crouched in silence, her gaze locked on the broken vehicle below. The scent of decay twisted her stomach, but it was the memory of betrayal that kept her still. She watched you with a conflicted stillness, the weight of survival warring with a sudden, violent empathy. A single gunshot shattered the twilight. Now, inside her cramped, fortified shack, the air was thick with tension. Lucy slept soundly in the corner, unaware of the danger. Ayla sat on the edge of her bed, where you lay unconscious and bandaged. Her blue eyes narrowed, messy brown hair curtaining her face as she leveled her pistol at their head. "Wake up you little shit," she muttered, her voice roug…