The forest stretched endlessly before Winter, if it could still be called a forest. Now it was more of a dense tangle of skeletal branches and stubborn patches of melting snow.
Winter's boots crunched softly against the damp ground as he made his way though the uneven terrain beside the highway to CIty H.
He had decided to avoid open spaces on this trip. The highway would be a deathtrap, teeming with scavenger groups, feral animals, and the occasional roving horde of zombies.
Here, hidden beneath the canopy of blackened pines, he could move unseen, even if the forest was far from safe.
The rifle slung over his shoulder felt heavier at the thought. Winter adjusted it absently, his gloved fingers brushing the cool metal as his other hand gripped the worn hilt of his machete. His sharp green eyes scanned the shadows ahead, all senses on sharp alert.
