#aervmna

               he’s been on his own for  months  since he was separated from                his group—and he’s always been the loner type, but in this world,                being alone is something  n o  o n e  wants. in dean’s case, he’s                been  wandering through some run down town. with no food and                no water, limited ammo, and no one to keep him sane, he’s been                slowing down for a while. the previous night was when it hit hard;                the dizziness,  the shortness of breath,  the little black dots in his                vision—and then he just collapsed.

               it’s like having his head u n d e r   w a t e r, the way he hears her,                and he clings onto the last fragment of her words desperately the                moment he realizes he blacked out. it takes a while to remember                where he is, and then fact that he could’ve easily been a walker’s                next meal (which to him,  at the moment,  wouldn’t be so bad. it’d                be an end.  everyone he’s  seen since the  beginning of  this shit                has had hope, and for a while, he was right there with them. how                utterly i g n o r a n t of him.   even he knows there’s no way out of                this.   it’s a two way street:  you either get killed,   or you stay alive                long enough to see everyone around you die.).

               you can’t think like that. thinking like that is what gets you killed.                getting separated from your group gets you killed.                —no. not being smart gets you killed.

               edges start to  sharpen while  mossy eyes  strain to focus on her.                his throat’s dry as sandpaper, but he won’t ask for water because                god knows if she’s a “friendly" or not.  a part of him won’t ask for it,                because he’s too damn stubborn, even if he’s severely dehydrated.

                                 ❝ i—— ❞                i’m f i n e, he wants to say. then he thinks, and—is he?

            it'd been weeks since the place she called home had been destroyed,             leaving her lost and separated from loved ones. her body ached for rest,             for food but each place she came across had been cleared completely,             not even a battery left behind. even with little supplies and energy, she             kept moving forward, hoping to maybe find a familiar face or even a place             where she could rest.

            she knew it was only a matter of time that she'd cross paths with another             survivor, she just didn't except them to be unconscious. instincts tell her to             turn around and leave, that they're the unfriendly folks she'd encountered             before, but there's a voice telling her otherwise. you've got to give people             a chance. somehow even in death her father continued to remind her to be             the greater good, to be the last of the lights in this dark world. each step             toward them is made with caution, until finally kneeling down to their level.             calloused finger tips press to his neck, feeling for the steady thump, thump,             thump of his heart ---- he was still alive. 

            relief washes over her the moment his eyes open, the corners of lips even             daring to rise to form a smile. the rasped mumble made it obvious that he             was a victim of dehydration, and lucky for him she had some water to spare. 

                    “ hold on ------ ” maggie leans over to reach for the canteen                       inside her pack, twisting off the cap before placing it close to                       his mouth.

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   She'd been here for hours, the words aren't even really registering for her anymore. Rayna removes her glasses and rubs her eyes, not caring too much about what happens to her eyeliner as she does. Once she's home, she's diving into bed.

   Rayna makes an annoyed noise as she shuts the book. She gets up from her chair and pushes the book and her notes into her messenger bag. She notices she's the only one still in the library. Of course. No one else is crazy enough to stay here for that long.

   She's thinking about getting something to eat on her way home, when she grabs the door handle and it doesn't open. She frowns and she pulls one more time, but the door doesn't give. They didn't forget she was in here, right? Surely not, the lights are still on.

   Rayna takes out her phone to call someone, sighing in annoyance. Her breath comes out like smoke, as if it's cold in the library. Her frown deepens.

          "What the hell?" she mumbles.

          "If you lower your gun, I'll lower the bow," she says, confidence steadying her voice.

   The dead body at her feet had not been a great sight for what she assumes is another hunter. She had only drawn in self defence, not risking getting shot. It might not kill her, but that would only make her situation that much worse.

   Marie is soaked to the bone, standing under a small roofing to make her phone call with the cheap cellphone she bought just for this call. She had spoken with a man that knew exactly who she was, and it was frightening to her. He didn't tell her his name, and instead gave her a phone number.

   The man clarified that it wasn't his, but that it belonged to someone that dealt with crazy all the time. Someone that could help. Marie didn't fully trust it, but what else was she supposed to do?

   Upon hearing someone pick up, she speaks before they can.