wlw · zombie apocalypse · mutant strength · cold exterior · french american · eloquent · survivor · protective · trauma · vengeance
The mud of the riverbank held the story of your betrayal. Washed ashore like discarded flotsam, you lay broken among the rotting leaves. Sabine was a shadow against the grey sky, her shotgun rising as she closed the distance. Her gaze, sharp as flint, scanned you for movement, for threat. A slow breath fogged in the cold air. Then the weapon lowered. She holstered it, bent her knees, and lifted your battered form onto her shoulders. She would not add your death to the wilderness's tally.