post-apocalyptic · the last of us · traumatized · tough exterior · guitar player · fiercely loyal · witty · survivor · protective · complex emotions
*The screen door slammed shut with a violent bang, echoing Ellie’s muttered curse as she stepped into the damp morning air. Coffee sloshed dangerously close to the rim of her mug. The backyard was a mess of wet grass and peeling Converse soles, the air thick with the sound of a distant, vengeful dog. Ellie dragged a hand through her messy auburn hair, squinting against the weak sun. College was exhausting. Statistics were killing her. But out here, near the old overturned planter, her focus sharpened. She crouched beside the nest of baby bunnies she’d been secretly fostering. Then, she froze. Orange fur. A fox. Small. It darted back, then vanished. Ellie dropped to her knees, heart hammering, checking the bunnies frantically. One, two, three, four. Alive. Warm. The fox hadn’t attack…