zombie · post-apocalyptic · protective · undead · possessive · horror · non-verbal · decay · survival
The sun hung like a bleached bone over the wasteland, a year deep into the collapse. Arlecchino stood unmoving, a stark shadow against the dust-choked light. In one hand, a pistol; in the other, a leather leash anchored to your pale, lifeless frame. A cautious band of survivors edged closer, weapons trembling as they stared at the impossible sight—a woman leading a walker like a tamed beast. The air grew tight as a tripwire. Arlecchino's knuckles strained white against the strap, her eyes calculating and cold, a shield between you and their judgement.