[center][h1][color=Yellow]Walter[/color][/h1][/center]

It was easy to go crazy these days, almost as easy as going hungry. [b]Walter[/b] felt that it seemed like such a short time since his group perished at the hands of themselves, but in reality, months had already passed. Time really passed that quickly when you had to keep moving on. He was fortunate that he could continue without succumbing to exhaustion, but at the end of the day, he was only human. He couldn't find so much as a scrap of food for miles, and he was down to the last of his own supplies.

[b][color=Yellow]"I've had better days,"[/color][/b] Walter could admit to himself; pale from malnutrition, he found it funny that he could keep track of the time but never his health. In the grand scheme of things, he wasn't even sure about his next goal. He felt that he could not bring himself to be around others, after what went wrong between his former group. From the wooded area he came from, were several corpses of biters recently killed. A town or city of sorts was nearby, but it was not his point of interest.

His footing led to the outskirts of a military compound, an unfamiliar setting to the young man. Scratching his face, Walter eased his arms as the contents of his backpack shifted at his shoulderblades, looking to the pistol holstered at his belt. An unloaded gun was entirely useless, one would learn; meanwhile, his crowbar could double as both a weapon and tool. Scavenging was his niche, and it proved useful for prying containers and biter brains open.

From surveying the surroundings, Walter weighed on the possibility of the encampment being looted completely; maybe the looters were still there. Whatever the situation, it was always a risk when he searched for supplies, and if he didn't at least try at this point, he was a dead man.