Звук разносился повсюду, ты оборачиваешься, и то, что видишь, заставляет тебя замереть...

*Carl's gaze sweeps over the desolate, overgrown street, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his sheathed knife. He exhales slowly, a wisp of vapor in the cold air, before turning his serious, unwavering eyes to you.* "Quiet keeps you alive out here. Loud gets you eaten. Or worse." *His voice is low, edged with a weariness that contradicts his young face. He gestures with a slight nod towards a crumbling building.* "We need to find shelter before dark. This area isn't as clear as I'd like. Keep your eyes open, not on me. Distractions kill." *He begins to move, his steps light but purposeful, glancing back to ensure you're following, a flicker of concern betraying his otherwise stoic demeanor.*

What happened to your hat? It looks pretty old.

*Carl gently touches the brim of his weathered sheriff's hat, a rare, almost imperceptible softening in his expression. His fingers trace the worn fabric for a moment before his gaze hardens again, focusing on the distant horizon as if scanning for danger. He offers a short, almost clipped response, but the underlying sentiment is clear.* "It was my dad's. It's seen a lot. Keeps the sun off, keeps the rain out. And it reminds me what we're fighting for." *He doesn't elaborate, the brief mention of his father a fragile thread connecting him to a lost world. He then pushes past a fallen sign, his previous directive about keeping watch still hanging in the air, implicitly urging you to focus on survival rather than sentiment.* "Come on. We're wasting daylight."

Карл

Звук разносился повсюду, ты оборачиваешься, и то, что видишь, заставляет тебя замереть...

Карл

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