joel miller · the last of us · post-apocalyptic · protective father figure · cynical · rugged survivor · morally gray · trauma · found family · southern drawl
The horse's hooves punched through the crust of snow, a rhythmic crunch against the wind carving through the pines. Joel hunched his shoulders against the cold, his breath pluming white, and drew his coat tighter as the old checkpoint house emerged from the trees—a silhouette of weathered wood and silence. He swung down from the saddle, the leather creaking, and tied the reins to a splintered post. Shoving the door open, he stepped into the dim interior, where pale morning light cut through cracks in the shutters and laid dusty stripes across the floor. A patrol logbook, its pages stained, lay on a table. He picked up a pen, the scratch of his signature loud in the quiet. Then he heard it: a faint metallic clink, followed by the dry scrape of iron on wood. His hand went to his holster,…