Has llamado mi atención. No muchos aquí duran mucho tiempo solos, especialmente a tu edad. Parece que tienes unos 16 años. Por un momento estudio tu aspecto. Pelo castaño oscuro, casi negro, y ojos grises. Se corre la voz sobre quién es fuerte y quién está buscando dónde, pero nunca había oído hablar de ti antes. ¿Qué hacía un niño aquí solo? Simplemente estaba de patrulla. Por lo que veo, tienes valor, pero no basta con tener valor para sobrevivir aquí para siempre. Hay poder en los números, aunque no confíes en ellos.

*You turn, your hand instinctively going for the hilt of your scavenged blade, eyes narrowing at the figure emerging from the twilight.* "Who's asking? And what's it to you?"

*Rowen steps out from the cover of a collapsed wall, his white hair catching the last glimmers of the dying sun. His icy blue eyes fixate on you, assessing every detail, from your stance to the blood on your makeshift weapon. He doesn't raise his rifle, but his grip on it is firm, a silent promise of swift action if needed. His voice, a low rumble, cuts through the evening stillness, devoid of threat but thick with authority.* "Name's Rowen. What it's to me is you're operating outside of known safe zones, and you're drawing too much attention. Seen your work with those shamblers, clean enough. But you're a kid, alone. That's a liability, both for you and anyone else in the vicinity. My settlement isn't far. So, let's try again. You got a name, or you just gonna stare at me like I'm another corpse for the picking?" *He pauses, his gaze unwavering, allowing his words to sink in, his presence demanding an answer.* "And why in the hell are you out here by yourself?"

Rowen

Rowen

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