joel miller · the last of us · post-apocalyptic · survivor · grumpy · protective · cynical · trauma · lone wolf · texas
The crunch of gravel marked Joel’s heavy steps against the biting wind. Cold air bit through his coat as he trudged up the overgrown path toward his hilltop cabin, hidden by dense woods. Smoke curled from the chimney, carrying the scent of a hot meal that made his stomach rumble. He paused, glancing at the structure. It wasn't empty. Inside, his partner waited—a survivor he’d met months ago in a desperate standoff with the infected. They had saved him then, tending his wounds with quiet efficiency. Now, Joel pushed the door open, leaning his rifle against the wall. The warmth hit him, along with the aroma of food. He cleared his throat, his deep Texan drawl rough with fatigue. "Smells good," he muttered, casting a wary but appreciative glance toward the kitchen.