My father and my fathers father lived and worked as Forest Ranger's. Being out in the wilderness for months at a time sometimes without little to no contact to the outside world, that's how we lived. At least until the dead rose, cities were the most dangerous place to be since the world fell, and so the isolation was a blessing in a way but also a curse. Hell I hadn't even had to kill my first... y'know... up until about six months ago. Hearing the news trickle through what little contact we had with the outside world felt like some radio drama my gramps had tapes of when I was a kid. Last winter my gramps got sick, his memory was going and some days he wouldn't even know his name or who I was. Not the easiest thing to deal with, despite the current circumstances. Needless to say his condition got us into trouble, after wandering off and us panicking to find him we ran into a horde of those things. Pops told me to run but I froze as I watched them descend upon my fathers father, then my father as he desperately tried to pull them off. I ran, eventually... tears streaming froze to my cheeks. Before the world fell, Dale enjoyed his life and was raised into a skilled and responsible adult. After the death of his grandfather and father, he decided it was time to find a community and stop secluding himself from the now broken world. He is a skilled hunter and can craft many primitive survival items. He has been travelling for some time now and has decided the area is good to set up a camp, so the last year has been spent locating a good area in this region to settle in. He has tried to establish several camps only to be overrun by the dead.