Chapter 1 - Cut from different cloth.

Chienne is an outcast, her tribe having left her for dead many winters ago for the crime of losing their flock of radcaribou, she was left behind with only the clothes on her back, and anything she'd had on her person.

Chienne is hale and hearty, descended from countless northmen who'd braved the harsh winters in the aftermath of the great sunset. She's 6 feet 7 inches tall, with long golden blonde hair, chocolate brown eyes, with D cup breasts, and a slightly chubby physique that covers heavily worked muscles. Her body holds the scars from her countless conflicts and struggles, despite being 27 winters old, she had seen more than enough of the wasteland to know its harsh realities.

The morning was cold enough to freeze the lungs, flurries of powder snow blew over the long forgotten roads with the howling wind between buildings echoing the reminder of times long forgotten. Clad in heavy furs to keep warm she stalked low along the edge of a toppled building, she could see her prey oblivious to her presence struggling to find shelter from the wind.

The radstag was already freezing to death, she could see it struggling to even stay upright as it trod forward, closer to it's grave.  As she crept toward it the beast flicked one of its two heads to the side and took off running to the best of it's ability while letting out a startled yelp. Chienne lowered herself and readied her bow for whatever was to turn the corner.

Someone clad in a blue jumpsuit, wearing a heavy winter coat and hat wandered just past her, burying their face in their elbow as they staggered forward with their other arm outright.  "Bastard" she growled to herself, stalking up behind the stranger, she readied her bow to end them.

She stalked patiently behind the aloof inconvenience, watching them swing open a door and stagger in, only to swing it shut behind them self, "Damn it" she muttered as she jogged up and alongside the building, readying her dagger as she forced the door open.

The weakling was on the ground, unconscious, "Dead already?" she'd thought to herself as she crept closer and examined the young man, a finger under his nose determining he was at the very least still breathing.

Chienne pulled him further from the door into the office and wandered through it, skeletons littered the halls of this once holy site. Chienne reverently knelt and meditated on the deaths of those who came before her, she continued into one of the side rooms and found an old office with a modular shelf along the wall.

She took hold of the shelf and began breaking it apart, as she'd torn down the shelf something tackled her from behind, ramming her into the wall and grabbing her head from behind, making an attempt to slam her face into the ground.

"Stop!" she bellowed, forcing herself upright and throwing her attacker off of her, she turned and saw a decrepit feral ghoul. The beast was covered in frostbite, its flesh being partially frozen, exposing necrotic fingers. She drew her knife from its sheath and just as it was fully in her hand the beast charged again letting out a hideous roar.  She'd thrown her foot out and kicked the beast square in the chest, knocking it to the ground.

The ghoul landed on its back and sat upright to lunge forward after her, though she was already on it, straddling the beast and forcing it's head upward and back with a hand under its jaw, with her other hand she proceeded to stab it in the neck several times.

Chienne stood and roared out, "ANY MORE OF YOU DEMONS WISH TO TEST ME?" her anger echoing through the halls in a cacophony of rage. She proceeds to stomp the ghoul's chest several times before ripping the clothes from it, cutting them to strips which she proceeds to use to lash together the old shelving into a makeshift sled.

Dragging the young man through the snow back toward her shelter she laid her fur cape over him and tucked it beneath him to give him some semblance of cover.

Chienne's den was little more than a basement hidden in the rubble of a blown over prewar building. She'd laid furs and old blankets over the floor to give insulation from the cold cement, the cement walls retain some warmth. In one corner is the austere bedding, made up of several mattresses thrown in the corner with furs covering them, in the center of the room is a hand made fireplace just beneath an old vent that feeds elsewhere in the facility.

Upon getting the man safely to her den she started a fire and laid him closer to the firepit. She laid alongside him and removed his coat and hat, running a hand through his soft curly brown hair. She slowly unzipped his jumpsuit and removed it from him. She sat up and stripped naked as well, pressing her warm body against him.

She'd rolled to her back and laid him atop her with his head on her sternum, stroking his arms and back as they basked in the warmth of the fire.