Jasmine and Punch sat tightly, bound against the thick trunk of an ancient tree.
The coarse ropes biting into their wrists, the damp bark pressed cold against their backs, distant shuffle of undead feet echoeing through the gloom and breaths syncing in frustration. The stench of decay and damp earth hung in the air, thick enough to choke on.
The forest was dead quiet except for the guttural growls of the undead pacing around them. (The Zombies)
Faint light from the dying sun filtered through the leaves, staining the scene in hues of deep amber and blood red.
For a long moment, neither said a word. The only sound was the zombie's slow, uneven footsteps— dragging feet, broken bones, and occasional snarls. The creatures circled them lazily, like guards waiting for orders that would never come.
Then Jasmine finally broke the silence. Her voice came low but sharp, slicing through the air.
"Okay… how the fuck do we get out of here?"
