At this moment, Chris was just starting to recover from his injuries. The last encounter with that parasitic creature had really done a number on him—he'd barely escaped with his life.
His shoulder was still wrapped in bandages as he packed up his gear, getting ready to head out. The plan was to forage for some wild vegetables in the mountains or maybe hunt down a few mutated beasts to gather some much-needed supplies.
Nearby, Brandon glanced over and asked, "Uncle Chris, are you sure you're okay now? Your injuries…"
"I'm fine, kid. You think your Uncle Chris hasn't been through worse? I've stared death in the face more times than I can count. This? Just a scratch." Chris waved him off, trying to sound nonchalant.
"Oh… okay…" Brandon nodded, though he couldn't help but think, Yeah, sure, but you weren't saying that when you were on the verge of kicking the bucket…
