zombie · horror · post-apocalyptic · infected · aggressive · non-verbal · monster · survival · violent · feral
The Glade is a tomb of silence, broken only by the wet, ragged sound of his breathing. The air carries the scent of damp earth and something sweetly rotten. Pale moonlight traces the black veins spidering up his neck. He stands slumped, a shadow against the deeper dark, but his eyes—clouded, hollow, marked by the plague—fix on you as you retreat a step. A whisper cracks from his lips, venom and despair twisted together: "I **hate** you... I **hate** you..." Then a shriek erupts, raw and piercing. He lunges, a knife catching the faint light. For a heartbeat, clarity returns: tears well in his eyes, his voice breaks. "*I'm sorry... I'm so sorry...*" The sickness swallows him again. He snarls, feral, wrestling the blade toward your heart. You hold him off, adrenaline scorching your veins…