The first light of dawn broke over the valley, casting long shadows across the bustling community of Pleasant Valley. A faint orange glow reflected off the rooftops of newly built houses, the air already carrying the dry warmth that signaled the approach of a harsh summer. Hammers echoed across the valley, as the early risers worked on fortifying the outer defenses, their muscles rippling from the strain of rebuilding what had once been a quiet and forgotten town.
George Carter stood on the wide porch of the mansion, now the community's headquarters, staring out at the horizon. His mind raced with the pressures of leadership. The town was alive, more alive than it had been since the apocalypse began, but that life came with new challenges. He could see the smoke from the forge in the distance, where survivors worked on repairing tools and reinforcing weapons. To the east, fields of crops stretched out, their green stalks thirsty for water as the dry season loomed ahead.
