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[b]Name:[/b] Edgar "Ed" "Eddie" Walsh
[b]Age:[/b]20

[b]Companions:[/b] separated recently. Currently travelling alone

[b]Belongings:[/b] damaged journal with torn pages, couple cans of refried beans,water bottle, tensor bandage, pocket knife

[b]Background:[/b]  Like most, Edgar grew up a drifter with a small colony of survivors. He was the kid of the group for the longest time, as his dad and his dad’s friends led the pack. His dad would tell him stories of a world before, but they often felt more like fairy tales than reality. Ed knew only of the ashen trails, the blood-stained concrete and the sheer madness of existence. 
 
 His mother had died giving birth to him, which meant that his dad was his main passage of support for most situations, and he tried hard to protect his kid from the world around him.
 
 But unfortunately, the world had become something too harsh to hide. Food was always scarce for the groups of people, and there would often be days where no one would eat a bite. As a kid, his size proved his usefulness as he squeezed through boarded windows on buildings in order to scavenge anything that might have been left behind. Sometimes it was this fact that kept him alive. He knew that cannibalism occurred in the group. He had grown up understanding it as a fact of life: you needed to eat whatever you could in order to stay alive. He can still remember the greedy eyes staring at him as madness settled in, and the many arguments his father had to derail whenever people started getting ravenous.
 
 It was around the time he turned twenty that his usefulness started to run out. The group had become much smaller over the years as people started to die off, and while Ed did everything he could to help, he knew that his quiet and anxious nature was enough to make him a liability for the group.

 So when his dad started getting sick, and they hadn’t eaten in several days, Eddie knew that he needed to keep his eyes peeled. His anxiousness rose to astronomical levels as his dad started getting weaker and weaker. He could still feel eyes stained with insanity digging into the back of his neck each time he stepped away from his ailing father

 On the night when his heart finally stopped beating, Edgar was still wide awake, his anxiety preventing sleep. He spent a single moment, closing the eyes of his father, before he grabbed his dad’s journal, their mixed supplies, and he ran away as quick as he could, using whatever methods he thought of to lose the trail of his tribe. It may not have been the smartest idea…

 But Ed grew up understanding that you did anything you could to live longer.