Isamu sighed and ducked back into the tent. The canvas flapped noisily behind him, stirred by the chilly night breeze, as he slumped down to rest.
Day 13
The morning was brutally cold in the woods, the kind of cold that seeped into their bones no matter how tightly they bundled up. Frost clung to the edges of leaves, catching the weak morning sunlight as the group shivered and hastily folded the tent. Their breaths came out in puffs, disappearing into the crisp air.
Isamu went ahead of the group and scouted the road, catching sight of one zombie dragging itself around.
"Hmm, there were a few others yesterday. I guess they've wandered off," he muttered, narrowing his eyes at the creature before returning to the group.
The others had just finished packing when Isamu approached, picking up his katana with a deliberate motion. "How 'bout we finally give this sh*t a try?"
