s a c r i f i c e

  He raises and eyebrow. “Why on earth would I be worried you were a bandit?" 

He shrugged. "Bandits are bad, aren't they? I have trouble with them, too." They're so greedy, and dumb, too.

+ samtlou

"At least I'm not a bandit," Sam grins, shrugging. He's used to being referred to as a child by now.

hardcoredrugdealer started following you

  "There’s a start. So you just need rope then?…I’m sure I can help you find some rope if you don’t have any." Sarah was feeling generous. Why not?

"Really? That would be great!" Sam smiled, bright and nearly innocent. "I don't have much rope, only a few strands that are really gross smelling." The ropes were brown and he'd found them in a murky pool of water.

hardcoredrugdealer started following you

  Sarah raises a brow, a small smile playing on her lips as he tells her that she doesn’t look old. “Thirty ain’t old, kiddo. You become old when you’re, like, ancient." She believed not to be good with children but it seemed to be quite the opposite right around now. “Huh… Well it can’t be that hard, right? I’m not eccentric though— I’m not good with making shit. Er— Stuff."

Sam laughs. "I know how to tie knots, so I could do that trap that lifts you up into the air by your ankle," he muses. "I'm getting pretty good at that, so, maybe..."

hardcoredrugdealer started following you

  "Really? Well, hey, maybe you should set up some traps or somethin’," Sarah suggested, a small chuckle escaping her lips at the thought of a child having traps laid out strategically around his camp. “Hi, Sam. I’m, uh… Thirty two."

"Thirty two," he echoes. "Wow. You don't look old," he tells her. And she doesn't; actually, she's quite pretty, and Sam thinks she's pretty easy to look at. "And traps is a good idea, except I don't have any materials for that."

hardcoredrugdealer started following you

"I'm not sure. They think that, since I'm young, I'll have a lot of stuff." He shakes his head. "I don't, actually. " He lowers the gun slowly and puts it away. "Sam. I'm almost fourteen. How old are you?" he asks her, curious.

Sam snapped back to attention, nodding quickly. "Right, right. I'm coming." He grinned cheerfully, kicking a can to the side of the asphalt road. It clattered noisily, it was broad daylight, and the threat of clickers seemed silly here. "Let's go in here!" he announced, sidestepping a mangy white cat and tugging at one of the heavy doors. It was green, and the building itself had a dull silver fire escape and was brown. 

purpleartemis started following you

"I have.. a camp." He shifts uncomfortably. "It's that way." He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. "I'm staying there for today because there's a pipe I have to go through to get where I'm going. I don't have a destination." And he doesn't have the darndest clue where he's going, and that isn't okay. But what else can he do?

  Was it a stalker? No, it couldn’t be. She had to be seeing things. Besides, if it was, there would have been at least been a little bit of clicking heard. After all, a stalker was the beginnings of becoming a clicker. But Ellie had heard something, and she didn’t like it. It was then that she noticed a figure slowly peeking up from one of the tipped cars, and she squinted slightly to try and figure out what—or who it was.

Sam clenches his teeth. His muscles are locked. He is ready to fight, to kick, and punch, and stab. If he needs to. Sam decides to make the first move. He stands up fully. "Hello?" he whispers, peering into the treeline. He listened for the clicking. Nothing. No screams or that crazy mumbling that came with runners. And bloaters didn't hide. "Hello?"

marcielever started following you

"No bites, no scratches," Sam promises, pulling out his empty pistol and bloodied knife. He holds them out, an honest look on his face. "I'm Sam." He feels to need to introduce himself, he doesn't know why. Maybe so this girl will know what to call him, when she escorts him across the town.