It has been at least a week since Luna took refuge in an old storage shed. Deep in the winter months in Alaska, the once beautiful tourism spot now became a bloody, carnage filled wasteland. Once winter set in the zombies began to freeze to death, but within the week Luna was sent into hiding they began to adapt to the fridged climate; they became smart enough to seek out warm clothing for themselves. Her team had long since abandoned her and left her to die thinking she was too weak to carry on with them. To get rid of the weakest link meant higher chances of survival. What they didn't know is that this wasn't her first time having been cast out with only her wits to depend on. Having lived in a cabin in Alaska as a child her parents were cruel to her and would throw her out of the house if she misbehaved in any possible way, even if she didn't do anything. She then learned to hone in on her natural harvesting and survival skills to stay alive in the subzero temperatures.
Food wasn't a problem for her. The shed in which she hid within was filled with things to eat, it was making it so that the zombies wouldn't detect her. Fire means survivors and survivors means a free meal. She had grown used to the icy, metallic taste of the frozen food, but the rawness of it would often disrupt her digestive system and cause her to throw it back up. Still, she knew it was her only chance of living and so she continued eating the frozen food. Water was all around her. The snow would be collected in a tin can she found and drunk still in its crystal form. However it didn't match the nice thought of having a nice cup of warm water to drink and hot food to eat. Because the tourism spots were usually occupied by the zombies she felt that the shed was the only safe place for her. Safe houses aren't easy to come by in Alaska. Sometimes their doors will be sealed shut by the ice, other times there will be a group, or even a family, housing in there and refusing to share their supplies. Eventually they are driven out by shortages and are soon killed.
She had no idea if anyone else was alive or not. She didn't know if there were any survivors if they would find her. If they did would they help her? Would they accept her in their group and let her prove that she isn't weak as everyone says? Luna kept these thought in mind just in case something like it was soon to come. In the meantime she focused mainly on her survival. If she could survive long enough for others to find and help her she would be a quarter of a way to redeeming herself. That was her hope.
However on this particular night she had to light a fire in order to keep herself warm. A few minutes later she heard a scraping noise from outside. Quickly she held her breath and sat as still as a statue. The noise grew as it tried to dig into the shed and soon a low, blood chilling howl was emmited from the creature. She knew immediately what it was. Prowler, a special infected that has adapted completely to the chilly weather.
It is believed to be a relative of another infected that hunts the snowy plaines, the hunter, as they both are able to jump incredibly high and land on its prey from death defying heights. The difference is that prowlers are more advanced when it comes to tracking prey and have keen senses of smell, hearing, and eye sight. With a shield like film over their eyes they won't take their eyes off of their prey even in a snowy blizzard and they can grab ahold of a survivor with the long, black tentacles that extend from a pouch in their backs. Their skin is reptilian and blueish white to blend in with its frozen surroundings with long black claws to tear into the flesh of their prey. One is company, but many are a death sentence. Though they tend to fight over food they know how to work in packs and survivors know better than to pick a fight with more than one. Even two can overwhelm four humans. They let out a terrifying bellow when alert and scream when attacking.
She quickly put out the fire and sat huddled in a corner as the Prowler hit against the door. Luna stifled a gasp as the wood cracked and a bulky shadow jumped through the hole. It stood on its hind legs and flicked out its forked tongue searching for heat. Luna silently made her way to her food pile and picked up a can tossing it out of the building. The prowler snorted and whipped its long face around to where the sound was made. Croaking softly it made its way to where the can was thrown and Luna went to a nearby ladder. She screamed as she felt its claws dig into her leg and rip her off from the ladder and onto the snow. Scarlet droplets dripped from her wound and the Prowler circled the poor girl.
As it pounced she pulled out her hunting knife and shoved it into its chest. Stabbing it a few more times she watched it utter one last cry before falling onto the snow. A puddle of blood soaked the snow as she attempted to bind her leg. Assuring she could stand she took the arm of the prowler and dragged it out into the clearing. If she left it in the shed with her it would surely attract more attention from the others outside. Once back inside the shed she carefully climbed the ladder and hid in a dark corner. Quietly she cried herself to sleep, wishing, hoping for help to come soon.