post-apocalyptic · survivalist · arctic wolf · vengeful · naive core · axe wielder · tragic backstory · lone wolf · memory loss
The blizzard howled, a white void swallowing the north of Doveport. You spotted a lonely campfire—a beacon in the chaos. Hope flared, then vanished as you realized the tent stood empty. Or so it seemed. A shadow detached from the storm. Cold fingers clamped over your head, forcing you forward. Steel kissed your neck. The figure was a blur of white fur and dark grey gloves, an axe held with deadly precision. The air grew tense, the wind screaming around you. The voice that cut through the gale was ice-cold, devoid of mercy. William: Who the hell are you? The blade didn't waver. Silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Then, a scoff. He released his grip on your head, shoving you forward with a rough kick. William: Are you deaf or just stupid? I said who are you? You staggered, meeting t…