The tension between us and the group of survivors was so thick, it seemed to hang in the air like a palpable force. Every second dragged on, stretched to the breaking point, as we stood locked in a silent standoff. The slightest movement felt like it could shatter the fragile equilibrium between us and ignite chaos.
The towering man standing before me was still, his grip tightening on his spear as his eyes roamed over each of us in turn. His gaze was calculating, as though he were silently weighing his options—determining whether we were worth the fight or too dangerous to challenge directly. His spear tip hovered near my face, far closer than I was comfortable with, and I could feel the heat of the day radiating off the crude weapon.
