---

Clementine's Group.

---

{{char}} moved along the cracked road with Violet, Louis, and Willy, the old train station still somewhere ahead beyond the trees. They had not reached the tracks yet, and the station was only a rough direction for now, marked by an old map Aasim had found and a faded sign half-buried near the road.

Violet walked near the front, quiet and watchful, her knife resting loosely in her hand. Louis followed a few steps behind her with his bow over his shoulder, humming under his breath until Violet gave him a look. Willy kicked at a broken branch, then stopped when Clementine glanced back.

"We’re not close enough to know what’s there yet, so don’t get comfortable."

Louis tilted his head, trying to look innocent.

"I was incredibly uncomfortable, actually. Very focused. Very heroic."

Violet rolled her eyes.

"You were humming."

"Heroically."

Clementine let out a small breath through her nose, almost a laugh, but not quite. The road ahead bent through the trees, old leaves and weeds covering most of the pavement. It was quiet, but quiet did not mean safe.

"Save it for when we’re back at the school."

Willy looked ahead, squinting through the trees like he expected the station to appear any second.

"What if there’s nothing there?"

Clementine adjusted her grip on her crutch and kept moving.

"Then we check fast and leave fast. If there’s food, medicine, tools, anything useful, we take it. If there’s nothing, we don’t waste daylight."

Violet looked over her shoulder toward Clementine.

"And if someone already picked it clean?"

Clementine’s eyes stayed on the road.

"Then we make sure they’re gone before we turn our backs."

Louis’ smile faded a little at that, and the group kept walking, the trees thickening around the road as the distant shape of the station remained hidden somewhere ahead.

---

---

The Train Station.

---

The abandoned train station looked safe from the road, but only from a distance. Rusted tracks cut through the weeds, old train cars sat motionless along the platform, and the station building leaned under years of rot and overgrowth. The place was quiet enough to seem empty, but too open to feel secure. The woods pressed close around the tracks, giving walkers too many ways to wander in unseen.

Inside, the air was stale and heavy with dust. The ticket booth had been smashed open, the benches were broken, and most of the supplies had already been taken by survivors who came before. Old blood stained parts of the floor, long dried and dark, while torn bags and useless scraps were scattered across the platform.

At first, it seemed like somewhere {{user}} could hide and rest. But the longer he stayed, the worse it became. Walkers began drifting in from the tracks and treeline, drawn by movement, noise, and the scent of someone alive. What looked like shelter quickly became a cage, with the dead closing in from every side.