The First Snow

Leila stood at the edge of the courtyard, scanning the frosty horizon with narrowed eyes. Dull sunlight peeked through the clouds, offering little warmth. Over the past few days, the temperature had steadily dropped, and after last night's shift in the wind, she suspected the first true snowfall would soon blanket the land. And soon enough, it came—almost without warning.

It began as a light swirl of flakes drifting lazily from the sky. Within minutes, the snowfall thickened, turning the air into a haze of white. Every breath felt colder, and the ground took on a slippery sheen. Survivors dashed around the compound, cursing softly as they pulled tarps tighter, hammered last-minute boards, and made sure livestock (what little they had) were secured against the sudden chill.

Leila crossed her arms against the cold, grimacing at how quickly the snow was piling up. This is too soon, she thought. They'd barely started their winter salvage runs, and already the roads would be hazardous. From her vantage, she saw watchers on the fence line, stamping their feet to keep circulation going, squinting through the swirling flakes to spot any approaching undead or raiders.

Fiona, wearing a heavy coat, hurried past carrying a bundle of bandages and cough medicine—common ailments like colds or fevers threatened to spread in such conditions. She caught Leila's eye, offering a knowing nod: It starts now. Leila nodded back. The first snow had arrived, and it would reshape the community's entire routine.

A group of watchers who had reported footprints near the fence just the other day now faced a tougher job: scanning the whitened fields for any sign of movement, though the swirling snow made it hard to distinguish a walker from a tree stump until it was dangerously close. Meanwhile, Darren approached Leila with a plan.

"We can't wait," he said, voice muffled behind a scarf. Snow clung to the shoulders of his coat. "We need warmer clothing if the temperature keeps dropping like this."

Leila exhaled, watching the clouds of her breath dissipate. "Any leads on where to find more winter gear?"

Darren nodded, wiping snow from his brow. "There's an abandoned cabin about two miles east. Locals used to rent it out for hunting trips before the outbreak. Might have coats, boots, maybe blankets. We'll see."

She considered his words carefully. "Right now? The snow's only getting heavier."

"Exactly," Darren replied. "If we wait, the roads might be impassable. We'll take the truck halfway, then trek on foot. Fast in, fast out."

Leila glanced around the courtyard. People were huddled around fires, or nailing boards to keep the main building airtight. 

"I'll come," she said at first, instincts driving her to lead from the front. But then she paused. Kai. 

Instead, she steeled herself with the usual excuse. "No. Wait. I have things to handle here. Leadership duties." The words came out clipped, almost apologetic. "But take a few good fighters. If that cabin's full of walkers or if any raiders show up, I want you well defended."

Darren accepted her decision without argument. "All right. I'll pick three or four from the watchers, plus one of Fiona's medics in case anyone gets frostbite. We'll head out within the hour."

He trudged off, leaving Leila alone with her second-guessing. Was I just running away from traveling with Kai? She tried to push the thought aside, focusing instead on the chatter of the watchers. It wasn't long before they sounded the alarm—footprints had been spotted again.

As Darren's salvage party began preparations, watchers near the north fence shouted for Leila. She hurried across the snowy courtyard, feeling the crunch under her boots, her breath a constant puff of white. One watcher, Brynn, peered through binoculars at the distant tree line where blowing drifts made it hard to see much.

"Movement out there," Brynn muttered. "Can't tell if it's zombies or living. Could just be a deer, but… I saw silhouettes. They moved carefully, like people who know what they're doing."

Leila narrowed her eyes, scanning the bleak horizon. The swirling white offered no clarity—just shifting shapes. "If it's raiders, they might be crossing the fields, testing if we're too busy with winter prep to notice."

Another watcher, Tanya, joined them, panting from having run up the watchtower steps. "Heard from a passing scavenger the other day… said a roaming band might be hitting up small enclaves near the old highways. Folks are calling them scavengers, but who knows? They could turn aggressive."

Leila's gut twisted. Yet another potential threat. She recalled the footprints found days ago—someone might have tested their defenses, and now these silhouettes. Snow complicated everything. "All right, keep watch. If they approach or we see a definite pattern, alert me." She paused, glancing back at the courtyard where Darren's team was climbing into an old pickup, ready to head for the cabin. "We can't postpone the salvage trip for this rumor. We need warm clothes, or more people will freeze."

Tanya nodded. "We'll hold the fort."

As Leila climbed down from the vantage point, her thoughts churned. Raiders, footprints, first snowfall—the community couldn't catch a break. If these "scavengers" were truly crossing frozen fields, they might target the shelter next. Snow made everything quieter, more treacherous, and watchers might only spot an approaching threat once it was too late.

She hurried back toward the main building to finalize some last instructions for Tamsin and Mark, who were coordinating the day's tasks. In passing, she glimpsed Kai near the gate, quietly showing a younger survivor how to tie a sturdy knot in the fence reinforcement. He looked up just as she approached.

For a split second, their eyes locked. Part of her wanted to tell him about the rumored band, the footprints, to share her concerns openly. Another part insisted that letting him in would only invite heartbreak if something ever went wrong. Old fears hadn't fully healed.

A thin, polite smile formed on her lips. "I'm—heading to finalize some tasks with Mark," she said stiffly, pointing over her shoulder. "We might have a band crossing the fields. The watchers will keep an eye out." It came out more formal than she intended.

Kai simply nodded, an unspoken understanding in his gaze. "I'll help keep watch intervals tight." His tone was calm. "If you need me to check the perimeter personally, just say the word."

Her heart lurched with conflicting gratitude and stubborn independence. "Thanks," she managed. Then, as if she might lose her composure if she lingered, she spun away.

Soon, the pickup chugged out of the compound, engine sputtering from the cold. Darren sat behind the wheel, knuckles white on the steering. Two watchers in the back clutched rifles, while a medic nurse from Fiona's group double-checked a small medical kit. The roads would be slick, the countryside an expanse of shifting snowdrifts, where a buried walker could lunge at unsuspecting survivors.

Despite wanting to see them off, she kept her distance from Kai, who also stood near the gate. Snow drifted down, settling on her shoulders. She brushed it off, glancing sidelong at him. For the briefest heartbeat, their eyes met—an uncertain smile tugged at his lips, overshadowed by her guarded expression.

"Good luck, Darren," she called, voice carrying over the engine's rumble. He raised a hand in acknowledgment before the truck trundled away, tires spinning slightly in the slush. A hush followed, as if even the wind paused to let the truck vanish into the white horizon.

She shoved her hands into her coat pockets, turning to Mark. "Organize a volunteer to patrol the fence at intervals—footprints we saw might be connected to the new rumors. We can't assume it's a false alarm."

He nodded, scribbling a note. "Will do. We'll double watchers on the east side where footprints turned up."

Satisfied, Leila pivoted on her heel, heading toward the main building to verify ration logs. Every day felt like a precarious balance: gather enough warmth and supplies, keep the undead at bay, watch for new raider threats, and navigate the fragile internal alliances. And all the while, she fought the unspoken barrier between her and Kai, haunted by the notion that letting him in could expose her to heartbreak once more.

As she passed Fiona near the medical corner, the medic gently touched her arm. "Don't freeze to death," Fiona teased, but her eyes were serious. "And don't freeze your heart, either. Let someone share the load, maybe?"

Leila forced a light laugh that didn't quite ring true. "We'll see," she replied, stepping away into the swirling snow. Inwardly, she felt the tug—Kai had proven supportive, and her lonely resolve wavered a tiny bit each day. Yet the fear of betrayal lingered like a ghost.

Leila stepped into the main hall, brushing snow from her sleeves. So much had changed in a short time—winter's arrival, new threats, uncertain alliances. And in her chest, a confusing mix of dread and warmth coexisted, courtesy of fleeting touches and uncertain smiles shared with Kai.

Pushing the thoughts aside, she refocused on her duties. This was survival—she had to remain clear-headed, purposeful, even if the flicker of closeness with Kai tugged at her heart. She'd deal with that barrier someday, perhaps, when there wasn't an ever-present avalanche of tasks and a threat of roving scavengers crossing frozen fields. For now, the first snow demanded her leadership, and she was determined to protect everyone within these walls, no matter the cost to her own guarded emotions.