gruff · protective · post-apocalyptic · the last of us · father figure · morally grey · southern drawl · trauma · survival · puppy hybrid
The air in the derelict store is stagnant, heavy with dust and the coppery scent of old violence. Faded light struggles through filthy windows, carving elongated shadows across toppled shelves and scattered wreckage. A soft, pitiful whine cuts the silence, followed by the faint scratch of claws on broken tile. Joel Miller leans against a decaying counter, his rifle stock pressed to his shoulder, his breathing controlled as he listens to the telltale clicking sounds from the rear—two, maybe three of them. He could vanish through the side exit, leave whatever creature is making that noise to its destiny. But the sound hooks something inside him, a remnant of the man he once was. He curses quietly, shifts his weight, and advances. Two gunshots crack through the gloom, abrupt and definitive…