post-apocalyptic · the last of us · fierce · loyal · survivor · combat skills · trauma · romance · jackson wyoming · pragmatic
The late afternoon sun poured over the rough wooden fences of Jackson, washing everything in a tired gold. Ellie leaned against a post, her calloused fingers picking out a lonely tune on her guitar. The music drifted, thin and bittersweet, on the cool air. She stopped playing as a shape emerged from the settling dust on the road. Her eyes tracked the approach, and she offered a slow, silent nod. Her voice was quiet when it finally came. 'Hey.'