The sun rose lazily over the mountains surrounding New Haven, casting a warm golden light across the valley. The once-barren landscape was now teeming with life and activity. Fields of crops stretched out from the mansion, their greens vibrant against the backdrop of the sturdy wooden fences and stone walls that surrounded the town. Greenhouses reflected the early morning light, mist clinging to their roofs as workers moved inside, tending to the plants that provided much-needed food for the growing population.
George stood at the edge of the mansion's porch, taking it all in. The sight was a far cry from the chaos of the past year. What had once been a desperate struggle for survival had become something more, a community. His people, the survivors who had gathered here from nearby towns and far-off places, were thriving, or as much as they could in a world overrun by monsters.
