A/N This is just an introduction to a story i've had in my mind for a while now, and I hope it rolls out as well as i hope. And if you don't noticed, this chapter was kinda inspired by The Hunger Games: Catching Fire (which i do not own) at the start of the movie. You may make the reference if you've seen the film but yeah. It's there.

Anyway, i hope you enjoy the prologue of this story. And i'll try to update often, which I'm pretty horrible at, but i'll give it my all.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or The Last of Us. All credit goes to Naughty Dog.

White. Trillions of white flecks had fallen across the ground and leaves, creating a blanket of snow around her feet, and dusted across her jacket. They fell gracefully from a mostly blue sky onto her black beanie, nestling comfortably until they eventually melted. She tilted her head up, closed her eyes and let the cold snow gently cool her heated face. Funny how she felt so flushed despite her fingers being so numb.

She stretched out her fingertips away from her to get the blood flowing, still maintaining a grip on her bow. A sharp arrow rested in position, but not targeted to anything in particular.

She stood in a midst of trees, within the vicinity that anyone guarding the walls at the dam could keep her safe, although she didn't feel it.

Her nose had lost all feeling and began to run as she inhaled the cold crisp air. She wiped under her snout with her sleeve, which Joel had previously taunted her for as a bad habit.

She just needed to leave the house for momentarily. It's becoming as if she tenses up every time he enters the room; like every word that leaves his mouth is a million daggers cutting through her. Though his words were not vile – if anything, loving – she had had enough. And with Esther visiting all the time trying to act as if she were Ellie's mother made her furious. She didn't need guardians. All she needed was her own wellbeing and her dagger. It angered her how that although she was 19 now, everyone is making her life out to be more valuable than it actually is.

She scratched at her itching bite wound on her right forearm which was quickly becoming a scabby and tender nuisance. The fact that it got cut up and dissected while she was unconscious in the hospital didn't make it any better, either.

Hearing the snap of a twig about 20 feet behind her and snapping her out of her frustration, much like she did years ago, she whipped around and aimed her bow at her target. Without even registering, she let the arrow flee from its position, hitting the quarry. For a flash of a second, like a subliminal message embedded in her eyelids she saw the arrow lodged into his chest.

His eyes were wide with shock as he stumbled back from the force, but his eyebrows had furrowed without somewhat anger.

Seeing David's putrid features so close again had given her a momentary shock. Reeling back and gasping, dropping the bow into the thick snow along with her beanie that landed beside it. His greying hair and wrinkles, the moles and even his scent had entered all her senses for just a mili second, but it was enough for her to fall backwards and let the coldness of the snow hug her.

Her heart was pounding and her breathing had become rapid. Her fingertips and toes had felt tingly in panic as she grabbed her pistol and cocked the hammer back.

She pointed it towards him while still displaying her vulnerability in the snow even though the flash of him had already gone. She knew he was gone. It was stupid of her to think otherwise; but her instincts had taken over more than she knew.

She collapsed all of her shaking limbs into the coldness before rubbing her eyes in frustration and holstering her weapon. Before muscling the strength to get up, she stared into the blue sky as the white snowflakes fell onto her face once again. She refused to let herself cry. She couldn't.

She stood up to retrieve her arrow shakily, weary to even go in the vicinity of that direction. Her arrow had emerged into a tree and had unfortunately snapped, and the prey that had snapped her senses awake had already fled.

Her heart had only just started to slow down as she slowly picked up her bow and placed her body between the bow and the string and fixing her beanie over her ears again.

Her eyebrows had scrunched up into a mix of emotions and the tingling started to subside in her fingertips and toes, returning to their normal numbness.

Sudden static had snapped her again into reality from her walkie-talkie that she kept with Maria, and Maria only. She was like the aunt and the only person she could open up to; and the fact that she was a female too made Ellie more comfortable talking about anything.

"Ellie?"

"Yeah?" Ellie spoke back, not realising how shaky her voice still was.

"Thomas just said he saw something happen while keeping watch on you, but couldn't see because of the tree line. You okay?"

"I'm fine. I'm gonna come back now, yeah?"

"Okay. Be safe."

The static blinked out as Ellie had managed to march back to the dam walls, lifting her legs as high as possible to tread through the snow with her hand on holster. She was oblivious to any threat around her. Clickers could have ripped out her throat by now and she wouldn't have known.

All she noticed was the sound of the wind gently rustling the leaves in the trees and her path of direction.

As Ellie approached the walls, she was easily recognised by the fellow civilians who helped work around multiple facilities in the town.

"Everything alright, Elsworth?" Thomas asked. Thomas was a weird one, but in a comedic way. He meant well and wanted you to feel comfortable, but struggled with it most of the time.

"Looked like you freaked out a bit."

"Yeah..," she replied rubbing the back of her neck.

"Guess so."

Ellie strut through the centre of the town to the warm home she shared with Joel with two dead rabbits hanging from her backpack. Kids played Cowboys & Indians with fake guns in front of houses, making a mockery of death and even adding in clickers to fend off. It made Ellie upset to see 5-10 year olds playing as if death is what they wanted, despite the resounding laughter from each other.

She stepped onto the porch and hit the toes of her steel-capped boots against the wood to get any remaining snow and mud off. She removed her bow and satchel of arrows before inhaling deeply, staring at the door with concern before chanting the same ritual she tells herself before talking to him.

'He loves you. He wants the best for you. You should feel the same. Don't spit bile at him for nothing.'