#rofd

Montana knew this had been her idea. She was the one who had come up to Sabine with the proposal, the idea of being the one to give her the potion after she turned. Was she still mad at the Dark Rider for attacking her back then? Yeah. Was she still furious about the claw marks that now covered the lower half of her face? Fucking hell she was. If it hadn’t been for doctor Eiren and druid medicine who knew how long she would’ve had to deal with the wound reopening (not to mention the risk of it getting infected out in the wild).

But the memories of her first feed, the terror and realization of what she had done, of seeing Judy’s torn up body and lifeless eyes and the taste of blood in her mouth, were even more vivid. It was burned into her brain, a shiver running down her back every time she thought back to it. 

No one should have to go through that, not even someone like Sabine. Being lucid while feeding on a person was one thing, it was a whole different ordeal if you couldn’t control yourself. To be trapped in your own brain, aware of what you were doing and how you were acting, to feel your teeth and claws rip at flesh and arteries. Screaming and begging with your body to stop and still being unable to compose yourself even the tiniest bit because of the gnawing hunger and primal instincts that didn’t feel like yourself- 

Shaking her head the former blacksmith turned her focus back on to the potion brewing in the small pot in front of her. Cornelia had been kind enough to let her make a copy of the recipe that witch- Sive- had given the other vampires. The news that there was a potion, a supplement for the blood, had been the best news Montana had heard in weeks (even if her first reaction had been to be mad over the fact that all these months she could’ve just been drinking a damn potion instead of having to feed on humans). During the first four days in their little safe-space (which would not be safe at all once Sabine woke up again, it was more so to keep the outside safe from them) she had taken to stashing bottle after bottle of supplement around the circle. Always in pairs of two and a certain distance away from each other. It was the closest thing she had to a strategy; dump two bottles down Sabine’s throat and go for the next pair. Jay had explained how for Lisa, who had been in hibernation when they found her, a total of four bottles had been needed. 

“Let’s go with six. Although you better have some more ready, just to be sure.” 

They were right, of course. There was no chance in hell that Montana would be able to get six whole bottles down Sabine’s throat before she would start fighting back. The Dark Rider was already a ruthless fighter without the addition of "vampire’s first feed" feral. Bloodshed was a certainty and not because of the fact that she’d have to somehow keep the other girl somewhat still. 

Sabine had gotten infected while they were feeding Anne, Cornelia had lost two fingers to Lisa and neither of them had been alone while going up against the feral vampires. Montana had no one but her axe and anger once the Dark Rider woke up. Which was just fine for her. Not that there were many other viable options other than her; Katja and Jay were still suppressing their magic (plus Sabine was their sister), Cornelia had already been injured before. Lisa wasn’t the type of person to do something like this, there was no chance in hell Sabine would allow Florence to and Anne was Aideen-Knows-Where. This way no one else but her would have to risk getting hurt or even killed while going up against a Dark Rider.

A feral, hungry Dark-Rider-Vampire that was a foot taller than her and would be out for blood. She could almost hear Justin’s voice in her head yelling at her that ‘that’s not a plan, that’s a suicide mission!’ 

Yeah, not telling him about this had been for the best.

As the liquid inside the pot bubbled she let out a groan before turning around and looking over to where Sabine had curled up. The Rider looked exactly like a stage four zombie; eyes and cheeks were sunken in, her body nothing more than a skeleton covered by a thin layer of unnatural, purple skin. A few wefts of hair were still clinging to her skull while the rest had fallen out over the course of the past two weeks. 

It wouldn’t be long until she woke up again, until they could finally leave this damn circle. The fight that was slowly creeping closer as the minutes ticked by wasn’t what was making her restless. It wasn’t the cold or being separated from Onyx or even being stuck together with Sabine (though, granted, it wasn’t like the two of them had been able to hold much of a conversation).

But being confined to a tiny circle in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do but sit around and cook what was essentially soup? That part was, perhaps, making her a little restless. (And yes, the space Jay had made for them wasn’t small per se, but after spending months out in the open having to be stuck in a single area was driving her up the invisible walls).

ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ઇଓ

Montana had been staring at Sabine’s unmoving form for at least an hour when the first sign of life came. The growl had been low, quiet. Something that could easily be chucked up to one's imagination if it came out of nowhere. Not if that someone had spent the last few months in a constant state of survival mode with the added bonus of enhanced hearing. 

Eyes fixed on the corpse- vampire? undead person?-  lying on the other side of the circle the former blacksmith stuck her axe into the ground, the wooden handle facing towards the direction of the Dark Rider. With two bottles of potion held in one hand she started walking towards Sabine, fluffy snow crunching beneath her boots as the blizzard around her seemed to grow stronger. Despite what every fiber in her body told her she kept a slow and steady pace. Alerting the Dark Rider right at the start of their fight and risking sending her into an early rampage would only complicate things. The former blacksmith apprentice had to use the window of time she had between Sabine regaining consciousness and going feral to get as many potions as possible down the others throat. After that nothing was certain. 

Still, she had made a promise. 

Once only a few feet separated them Montana started to uncap the first of the bottles, magenta eyes never leaving the quivering, gurgling form of Sabine. The second, still closed potion was dropped in the snow before the former blacksmith apprentice rolled the Dark Rider onto her back. Her chest, all skin and bones, was heaving in slow motion. Eyes, soulless and emitting a faint glow the same color as her own irises, staring right at her. The knowledge that at some point she herself had looked like this sent a shiver down her spine.

Not wanting to waste another second Montana kneeled beside Sabine’s head, pinching her nose and pressing the bottle of supplement against her lips. Its contents quickly flowed down the other’s throat as her swallow reflex set in. The bony chest was starting to rise more frequently, more rhythmically.

‘Better hurry this up’ 

Discarding the empty bottle somewhere in the snow the former blacksmith reached for the next one. The movements were almost mechanical. Open the lid, press it against her lips. Watch out for any form of movement. With each gulp of liquid going down Sabine’s throat her heart started beating faster in anticipation of something. 

Half the potion was gone before the Dark Rider’s eyes widened. Arms and legs, albeit slow and clunky, started to move. Montana cursed under her breath. With a quick motion she shifted her position, moving one of her legs over and across Sabine’s shoulder and collarbone while the other one stayed on the snow-covered ground. Bony hands started clawing at her legs and torso as the Dark Rider started to regain more control over her limbs. Sharp collar bones dug into her shin, sending wave after wave of pain through Montana’s body.

As soon as the second potion had been downed and the bottle removed a bat-like scream tore through the air. Had she not removed her hand quickly enough it most likely would’ve met the same fate as Cornelia’s had. The struggle beneath her leg grew as the potion did what was its job, help Sabine recover. Unfortunately for Montana the other’s mind, unlike her physical strength, would only return once the feed had been completed. 

Time was running out and quicker than she had expected. 

The next batch of potions wasn’t too far away. Using Sabine’s chest as a stepping stool and causing a screech to leave the vampire's lips, which she definitely did not smirk at, no no, Montana scrambled to her feet. 

Her heart was pounding like crazy, the blood pulsing in her veins warming her up enough to no longer feel the biting cold of the blizzard around them. Only a couple more steps. Behind her Sabine was screaming.

Just as she was about to reach the bottles something sharp dug into her leg, piercing through fabric and skin. She cried out in pain before being violently pulled to the ground. Her face smashed into the cold snow, a muffled groan leaving her lips as her forehead and nose collided with the frozen soil. Quickly reaching out with one of her hands her fingertips almost brushed against one of the bottles before the distance between them grew again.

‘Shit!’  

Dirt and stones were scraping across her face as the claw on her leg dragged her backwards. Behind her the gurgling and uncanny sounds that sounded a lot like incoherent zombie blubbering grew louder. Her foot hit something solid, bone-like and Montana took it as her cue to turn the fuck around. Twisting her upper body she got a perfectly good look at one of Sabine’s hands digging into her left calf as the other was reaching for her other leg. 

“Fuck off!” With as much force as she could muster she kicked the heel of her right boot up against a bony jaw. Another kick followed, this time straight into the middle of Sabine’s face. It took two more of those before she could finally pull her leg free from the claw. 

Ignoring the stinging pain in her calf Montana decided against going for the closer potions, instead sprinting towards the direction of her axe. She couldn’t get another potion down, not without a proper weapon by her side for defense. And while the knives on her were pretty useful in certain situations they wouldn’t be of much help in this one.

Hearing the screaming behind her Montana managed to turn around just in time to evade an attack aimed directly at her face. A stretched out claw nearly grazed her cheek as Sabine’s malnourished form stumbled past her, barely managing to stay on her feet as she did so. With the Dark Rider trying to regain her balance it gave the former blacksmith apprentice enough time to raise her balled fists in anticipation, fuchsia colored flames engulfing her hands. 

As the Dark Rider turned around to face her again their face was met with a fist of fire. Two, three, four times. Each time Montana’s knuckles connected with her opponent's skull she could feel the pain sending shockwaves through her entire body. On the fifth punch Sabine finally fell backwards.

Extinguishing the flames, the former blacksmith apprentice continued her run towards her camp. Her knuckles felt like they were on fire, scratched open and bleeding from repeatedly hitting against what was essentially pure bones. There was a roar this time, guttural and angry and heading in her direction.

She really had pissed her off now.

Grabbing one of the nearest bottles and stashing it away in the pocket strapped to her thigh, Montana pulled her axe out of the ground, its metal blade glistening in the afternoon sun.

Sabine was half running, half crawling towards her like some weird cryptid-type-shit monster while screaming like a banshee. 

The smaller vampire shifted her grip on the weapon, wrapping both hands around the wooden handle as she got into position. She dropped her shoulders, eyes narrowing at the rapidly approaching form of Sabine, raising her harms and- 

There was a loud clang ringing through the air as the flat side of the metal blade collided with Sabine’s bony cheek. The Dark Rider’s body was thrown to the side, landing face first in the snow, unmoving.

In a matter of seconds Montana had jumped on the others back, slamming the axe into the ground beside them before pressing her full weight down on her shoulder blades. She pulled at the remaining hair on the other’s head, ignoring the ear-ringing screaming and lifting the skull just enough to wrap her legs around a thin neck. Her legs were propping up Sabine’s head while her free hand pinched and pulled at her nose. Pulling out the bottle and opening it with one hand she waited for another scream to leave the Rider’s lips before pressing the bottle against them.

Staying somewhat stable atop of Sabine’s restless form turned out to be more of a challenge than she had anticipated. Her legs tightened around the others neck as the other vampire shifted beneath her, clawing at the ground and moving her legs- 

The realization of what her opponent was trying to do came too late. Sabine was already standing up, albeit hunched over, before the last drop of the potion left the bottle. Claws tore open more of Montana’s pants and the skin on her legs. She was holding onto wefts of hair and bony shoulders for dear life as Sabine trashed from side to side, screaming and roaring like a wild animal. 

In the end her attempts to cling onto her were futile. Even in this form the Dark Rider was still a foot taller than her with the added difficulty of not offering much to hang on to. 

Montana was thrown off, her body flying through the air before hitting the ground once, twice. She gasped, ears ringing and limbs aching as she tried to get back on her feet. ‘Keep going, keep going. You can’t waste time.’ 

Axe. She needed her axe. It wasn’t too far away.

Neither was Sabine. 

With another scream the vampire lunged at her. There wasn’t enough time to move out the way. Both vampires rolled through the snow. The Dark Rider was going for her head, claws pressing her shoulders into the hard ground as fangs tried to get a bite out of her face. 

Dodging the attacks (which was just moving her head from side to side) the girl reached for the knife strapped to her thigh. Once she got a hold of the blade she pulled it out of its pocket before ramming it into the other’s side. With as much pressure as she could she dug it as deep as her strength and position allowed for, twisting it around before removing it and repeating the action below the first stab wound. Sabine cried out in pain, one of her claws leaving Montana’s shoulder and trying to get a hold of the hand that was attacking her. With one of her shoulders freed the former blacksmith apprentice used her chance and flipped them both over. The knife was rammed into the middle of Sabine’s ribcage who in turn fully let go of the smaller girl. 

Even with her unsteady legs Montana managed to get to her axe before the Dark Rider recovered enough to get on their feet. 

Three potions. She had already managed to get three down. Just three more. 

No biggy. Not at all.

She eyed the pair of bottles closest to her before turning back to look at Sabine, scrambling back onto her feet and screaming and screeching at her. Montana changed the grip on her weapon as the feral vampire started running towards her once again, the knife still embedded in the middle of her chest. 

She couldn’t kill her. That would defeat the whole purpose of this, not to mention what Dark Core would do if they found out she had killed one of her Dark Riders.

Dropping to her knees just before the Rider had a chance to get a grip on her she rammed the shorter side of the axe into their shin and immediately pulled it out again. 

It wasn’t deep enough to sever the leg, just a flesh wound to slow the other down (she might be suicidal but not crazy enough that she’d want to experience Florences’ wrath for cutting off her partners limbs). 

Sabine toppled over her, crashing face-first into the snow while screaming in agony. In a matter of seconds Montana dove over to the potions stashed in the snow. Behind her the Dark Rider was already crawling towards her, snow and dirty flying through the air as she did. The last few meters were a half-walk-half-crawl attempt from Sabines side before she once again lunged directly at her face.

One of her hands which had been holding a bottle of supplement came up as a reflex and this time it was Montana's turn to cry out in pain. Fangs pierced through cloth and flesh, digging into muscles and threatening to crush the bones of her forearm.

Reaching for the knife still stuck in the other's chest, which had disappeared almost completely between skin and bones due to her fall, the smaller girl pulled it out before ramming it back into purple skin, aiming for the patch of skin between shoulder and collar bone. She gritted her teeth, twisting the knife around the wound and, finally, her arm was freed. Putting all her energy behind it Montana kicked her leg up and against Sabine’s side, sending her to the ground, right next to the second potion.

Her foot slammed down on the vampire's chest, pushing her flat against the snow before dropping down to her knees. One hand quickly pinched the Riders nose as the other uncapped the bottle, pressing it against her lips. Nails scratched against her legs and torso causing her to let out a pained hiss. 

The empty bottle was thrown away, lost somewhere among the mix of white and red snow, Montana’s hand immediately reaching for the next potion. She just so managed to avoid having her arm chomped on a second time before thrusting the next bottle against Sabine’s lips. ‘One more. Just one more’ The thought kept pinging around her head as the second bottle was emptied. She had to hurry, had to get to another stack of potions, fast. Just as soon as she had stood up Sabine had scrambled to go after her. Something pierced her leg again, a scream ,not unlike the ones from Sabine, leaving her lips as teeth and fangs bore into her calf. Without thinking too much about it Montana turned around, grabbing her axe and swinging it at Sabine’s side. The metal pierced through skin and flesh, a scream that almost made her blood freeze ringing through the air. 

This was fine. It would be fine. They had Lisa and Cornelia and Florence. They could patch up Sabine.

Leaving the weapon stuck in the bigger vampire’s side the former blacksmith apprentice made a run for the nearest potion stack, picking up both bottles just in case. One was put into her pocket, the other she kept in her hand.

As she sprinted back to where Sabine was kneeling on the ground her free hand reached for her axe and pulled it out the Ridere’s side. The unopened potion was put between her teeth in order to wrap both hands around the wooden handle. She raised her leg, the sole of her boot colliding with the Rider’s chest as she kicked her opponent flat onto their back.  

Heart racing she swung the weapon down. 

The scream that followed as metal pierce through skin and bones would’ve sent birds flying if there were any. Sabine was struggling against the blade, screeching as the more she moved the deeper the metal cut into her shoulder. It had cut through flesh and bone, going straight through her shoulder and into the snow-covered ground.

Sabine was effectively pinned down. 

Montana’s hands shook slightly as she uncapped the bottle, squatting down beside the raving vampire and pinching her nose. One of her knees dropped to the ground as her other leg pressed against the pierced shoulder. An almost perfect mirror of the position she had used to get the second potion down her throat. As soon as another scream tore through the air the girl pressed the bottle against Sabine’s lips. 

Once the last drop of liquid was gone Montana removed the bottle, standing up on shaky legs and simply letting the glass fall from her hands. Her whole body was trembling. Heart racing. ‘This was enough, right?’

The next scream that tore through the air pulled her back to reality. She hurried to pull the axe out of the Rider’s shoulder, the cry cutting through the forest as soon as the metal was removed being more reminiscent of a wounded animal than a human being. 

Which they weren’t. They weren’t human beings, why should they sound like them? 

Panting from exhaustion she started to back away from Sabine, dropping her axe only a couple meters away while her shaking legs carried her a bit further. She watched as Sabine cried and screamed, curling up on her side as the red area around her shoulder grew bigger.

The Dark Rider wasn’t going after her anymore, that meant the supplement must’ve been enough.

Right? 

Only after the axe marked a sort of halfway point between the two vampires did she allow herself to collapse in the snow. The purple seemed to slowly fade from Sabine’s skin.

The freezing winds cutting across the bite wounds on her leg and arm weren’t even half as bad as what she had done to Sabine but god, did they still hurt like a bitch. She was faintly aware of the claw marks scattered across her body, though they were only a dull ache compared to where Sabine’s fangs had nearly crushed her bones.

God, how bad must the Riders shoulder and leg hurt, then?

Somewhere in the back of her brain she could register that the barrier had fallen, at least if the shocked gasps to her left were anything to go by. The area must’ve looked like a battlefield. Both of them were drenched in blood, their own as well as from the other, while at least half of the once fluffy snow that covered the area had turned into pink slush. 

In a matter of seconds Florence and Khaan were by Sabine’s side, trying to calm her down and assessing the damage. The screaming and crying did send a pang of guilt through Montana’s stomach. She had beaten her up pretty bad. 

Then again Sabine had messed up her face. They were basically even now.

Florence was shaking her head as her hands did their best to sooth Sabines crying from. 

“Fuck me, Montana. We’re you trying to fucking kill her?”

Her reflection in the cracked mirror by the fireplace was unrecognizable. Her skin was pale and sickly, her eyes sunken and rimmed with shadows. The purple veins from the infection had spread up her arm, twisting like sinister vines toward her shoulder. Her lips were dry and cracked, blood staining the corners from where she’d bitten down too hard, trying to keep herself grounded.

The changes weren’t just physical. The hunger gnawed at her insides, a deep, unnatural craving she couldn’t satisfy. It wasn’t hunger for food, though she hadn’t eaten in days—it was something darker, something primal. It terrified her.

Her hands shook as she reached for her knife, her lifeline through so many battles. It sat heavy in her lap, the blade dulled from years of use. She could end it, she knew. Right now. Quick and clean. She’d always thought that’s what she would do if it came to this. But when the moment was here, staring her in the face, she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

The fire in the hearth had long since burned out, leaving the cabin cold and dim. Blaire sat back against the wall, staring at the ceiling. Her mind drifted to memories of better days, though they felt more like someone else’s life now. She saw her friends’ faces—Alex, Lisa, Linda, Anne. She wondered if they even knew what had happened to her, or if they’d just assume she was gone, like so many others before her.

The ache in her chest wasn’t from the infection. It was from the emptiness, the isolation. She hadn’t spoken to another human being in weeks. The sound of her own voice felt foreign now, raspier and weaker than she remembered. The loneliness had always been the hardest part, even before the bite. And now, in her final days, it was suffocating.

Storm nudged her shoulder with his muzzle, pulling her from her thoughts. She looked at him, her vision blurring with tears she hadn’t realized were there. “I don’t want you to see this,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Please, Storm. Just go.”

But he stayed, his presence a small comfort in a world that had given her none.

The hours dragged on, each one worse than the last. Blaire’s body was betraying her, bit by bit. Her limbs felt heavy, her movements sluggish. The hunger was all-consuming now, clawing at her insides like a wild animal. She pressed her hands to her stomach, as if she could will it away, but it only grew stronger.

When the sun set, Blaire knew it wouldn’t rise for her again.

She staggered to her feet, gripping the edge of the table for support. Her legs wobbled beneath her, but she forced herself to move. She didn’t want to die in the cabin. It had been her shelter, her refuge, and she didn’t want to taint it with what she was about to become.

Storm followed her as she stumbled outside, the cool night air hitting her like a slap. The moon hung low in the sky, its light casting long shadows across the ground. Blaire took a shaky breath, her gaze drifting upward. The stars were bright tonight, scattered across the darkness like tiny, defiant sparks.

She walked until her legs gave out, collapsing in a small clearing surrounded by trees. Storm stayed close, his soft breaths the only sound in the stillness. Blaire leaned back against a tree, her knife clutched loosely in her hand. She didn’t have the strength to lift it anymore.

The infection was winning. She could feel it in every fiber of her being, pulling her further away from herself. Her thoughts were jumbled now, slipping through her fingers like water. She tried to hold onto something—anything—but it was no use.

Her body trembled as the transformation took hold, her vision blurring at the edges. She closed her eyes, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, though she wasn’t sure who she was apologizing to. Her friends? Her parents? Herself?

Storm nuzzled her shoulder, and Blaire managed a weak smile. “You’re a good boy,” she murmured. “The best.” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed hard. “I hope you find someone else. Someone who can take care of you. Better than I ever could.”

The hunger was overwhelming now, but Blaire fought it with everything she had. She wouldn’t give in. Not yet. Not here.

Her breathing slowed, each inhale a struggle. She felt herself slipping away, the world fading around her. And for the first time in what felt like forever, she stopped fighting.

She thought of her friends one last time, their laughter echoing in her mind like a distant melody. She thought of the stars, constant and unchanging, watching over her even now. And she thought of herself—not the person she had become, but the person she used to be.

Blaire let out a soft sigh, her body relaxing as she surrendered to the inevitable. The hunger faded, the pain subsiding into a strange, peaceful numbness. She felt weightless, as though she were floating.

“I’m ready,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

The quiet of the clearing wrapped around Blaire like a shroud, a silence so complete it felt almost sacred. Her breaths came slow and uneven now, each one shallower than the last. Her body was a battlefield, the infection waging a war she couldn’t win, and she could feel herself slipping further with every passing second. Yet, somehow, the stillness of the moment gave her a strange sense of peace.

Storm lay beside her, his warmth a small comfort against the encroaching chill. She reached out a trembling hand, her fingers brushing against his mane. The gesture was weak, but it held all the affection she couldn’t put into words. "You’ll be okay," she whispered, though the words felt hollow. Who was she to promise him that when nothing was okay anymore?

Her mind wandered, unbidden, to the past. Memories surfaced, vivid and sharp, as if the infection were pulling them from her in a cruel farewell. She saw herself as a child, laughing with friends under the summer sun. She saw her parents, their faces soft with love and pride—a stark contrast to the cold indifference that had grown between them in her teenage years. She saw her friends, their determined faces etched with purpose as they faced danger together. And then, she saw herself—alone, always alone in the end.

The loneliness hit her like a physical blow, harder than any of the pain the infection had wrought. She had always told herself she was fine, that she didn’t need anyone. But now, at the edge of it all, she couldn’t deny the ache in her chest, the longing for connection that she had buried so deep it had almost suffocated her.

The infection had become unbearable, a slow poison creeping into her mind and body, unraveling her piece by piece. Blaire sat on the cold, damp ground of the clearing, her knife trembling in her hand. Storm stood nearby, pacing nervously, his ears twitching with every labored breath she took.

The moonlight bathed the scene in an ethereal glow, but it brought no comfort. It only seemed to highlight her anguish, the trembling of her limbs, the sweat beading her brow, and the purple veins that snaked their way up her arm like a vile tapestry of her downfall.

She couldn’t hold onto herself anymore. The infection clawed at her thoughts, pulling them into disarray, making her feel like a stranger in her own skin. It whispered to her, taunting, seductive, promising release if she just let go. Blaire gritted her teeth, tears burning trails down her cheeks as she fought to hold onto the last fragments of herself.

“I don’t want to be like them,” she choked out, her voice hoarse and ragged. “I won’t be like them.”

Storm turned to her, his dark eyes full of worry, as if he understood her words. He let out a low, mournful sound, nudging her shoulder with his muzzle. Blaire reached out to him, her touch featherlight, her hand trembling too much to stay steady. “You’ll be okay,” she whispered, though the words felt hollow even as she said them. “You’ve always been stronger than me.”

Her memories began to slip through her fingers like sand. Faces blurred, voices faded, and the warm glow of happier times felt so distant now, like a dream she couldn’t quite remember. She thought of her friends—wondering where they were, if they were safe, if they even thought of her anymore. Would they miss her? Would they mourn her? Or would they feel relief that they wouldn’t have to fight her if she turned?

The thought cut deep, sharper than any knife ever could.

She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms, desperate to feel something other than the cold hollowing her out. But it didn’t work. The infection was taking everything—her strength, her memories, her sense of self. She couldn’t let it take her completely. She couldn’t let it win.

Storm let out another low whimper, his worry palpable. Blaire turned to him, offering a faint, broken smile. “You’ll go find them, won’t you? You’ll find someone who can take care of you. You don’t deserve this.”

Her hand tightened around the knife. She stared at it, the blade gleaming in the moonlight, and swallowed hard. It felt like an impossible weight in her hand, heavier than it had ever been. But she knew what had to be done. If she didn’t act now, the infection would strip away her humanity, leaving nothing but a mindless husk that would endanger everything she loved. She refused to let that happen.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, the words directed at no one and everyone all at once. Sorry for failing, sorry for leaving, sorry for the mess she was about to make. But there was no other way.

Her heart raced, every beat echoing in her ears as she positioned the knife over her chest. She took a deep, shuddering breath, willing her hand to steady. “I’m still me,” she murmured, as if saying it out loud would make it true. “I’m still me.”

But even as she said it, she felt the truth slipping away. The infection wasn’t just in her body—it was in her thoughts, her emotions, her very soul. She could feel it twisting her mind, turning her anger into rage, her sadness into despair, her love into something dark and unrecognizable. She was losing herself, and she was terrified.

“Do it now,” she told herself through gritted teeth. “Before it’s too late.”

Storm let out a sharp cry, as if sensing what was about to happen. Blaire closed her eyes, her tears falling freely now. “I’m sorry,” she whispered again, her voice breaking. “But this is the only way.”

She drove the knife forward, a sharp, searing pain radiating through her chest. She gasped, her body jerking, her vision blurring. The world around her tilted, the moon and stars spinning above her in a chaotic dance. She collapsed onto her back, the knife still buried in her chest, her breaths coming in shallow, uneven gasps.

Storm came to her side, nudging her frantically, his soft whinnies filled with panic. Blaire reached out one last time, her fingers brushing against his muzzle. “It’s okay,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “You’re free now.”

Her gaze drifted upward, to the sky above. The stars seemed brighter now, more vibrant, as if they were welcoming her home. The pain in her chest began to fade, replaced by a strange, comforting warmth. She felt... lighter, like a burden she had carried for so long was finally lifting.

“I’m still me,” she whispered one final time, her voice barely more than a breath. A faint smile touched her lips as her eyes fluttered closed, the world around her fading into nothingness.

And then, she was gone.

Blaire was gone. But in her absence, the clearing seemed to hold its breath, as if the world itself had paused to mourn the loss of someone who had fought so hard, for so long, against impossible odds.

And then, slowly, the world moved on.

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Blaire’s body lay still under the vast expanse of the moonlit sky, but something else stirred—a faint shimmer, like the first flicker of a candle in the dark. Her chest rose once more, not in a gasp of life but in the soft, ethereal movement of something deeper. Her soul, fragile and luminous, began to stir, unfurling like the petals of a flower breaking free from the frost.

Storm nickered softly, stepping back as the air around her grew lighter, almost serene. The oppressive weight of despair and decay lifted, replaced by an otherworldly calm. Blaire’s soul rose slowly, untethered from the ruined vessel that had been her body. It hovered for a moment, translucent and glowing, carrying the faint outline of her form but free from the infection that had plagued her.

She looked down at herself—or what was left of her. Her physical self seemed so small now, crumpled against the earth like a discarded shell. Her heart ached, not with regret but with a bittersweet acceptance. She had done what needed to be done. She had fought to stay herself until the end.

The pain and fear that had gripped her moments ago were gone, replaced by a strange peace. She could feel the infection’s hold on her dissolving, its darkness unable to reach her here. For the first time in weeks—months—she felt whole.

Storm whinnied again, his wide, dark eyes fixed on her glowing form. She knelt beside him, her incorporeal hand reaching out to stroke his muzzle. He leaned into her touch, his body shivering as if he could sense her, even though she was no longer flesh and blood.

“You’ll be okay,” she said softly, her voice carried on the breeze like a song. “You’ll find your way. You always do.”

The wind picked up, carrying with it the scents of the forest and the whisper of far-off stars. Blaire turned her gaze upward, where the heavens stretched endlessly above her. The moon seemed brighter now, its silver light beckoning her forward. The stars, too, seemed alive, forming patterns she had never noticed before, as if they were guiding her.

A warmth spread through her, and she felt a gentle pull, as though the universe itself was calling her home. She hesitated, looking back at Storm one last time. “I’m sorry I can’t stay,” she murmured. “But you’ll be okay. I promise.”

Storm whinnied again, pawing at the ground, his head lifting to the sky as if he could see her ascending. Blaire’s soul began to rise, the earth fading beneath her as she was carried upward by an unseen force. The stars seemed closer now, their light surrounding her, cradling her, as if welcoming her into their eternal embrace.

Memories flashed through her mind—not the painful ones, not the infection or the loneliness, but the moments of joy, of love, of connection. The laughter of her friends, the warmth of a campfire, the feel of the wind in her hair as she rode Storm across an open field. They were fragments of a life that had been hard, but also beautiful.

She let out a soft sigh, her soul shimmering brighter as she let go of the last of her pain. “I’m still me,” she whispered to the stars, and for the first time, it didn’t feel like a question. It felt like the truth.

As her soul ascended higher, the forest below grew quiet, as if the world itself was holding its breath. The infection that had sought to claim her was left far behind, unable to follow her into the light.

As the head drops from the zombies shoulders its body soon follows. Montana was panting from exhaustion, pulling the blue scarf she had wrapped around her head down to allow more air to flow into her lungs. It was a safety precaution to stop any potentially zombie fluids from entering her system while… taking care of them.

The thought of zombie blood or saliva getting into her mouth was also, simply put, fucking disgusting.

“Onyx?” As she called out there came a low whine in response before a head popped out from behind a boulder not too far away. With a last look around what had once been a small zombie group that had been separated from the Silverglade Horde she let out a sigh and swung her axe over her shoulder. The shire came walking towards her, stopping only to sniff at a severed head before snorting in disgust and continuing his walk. As his hind legs passed the skull he gave a forceful kick against it, sending it flying straight into a bush.

The girl couldn't help but chuckle at her horse's attitude. At least some things hadn't changed since the start of all… this.

Really, Onyx's attitude had not let up even a single bit. The tantrum he had thrown before, whilst and especially after she had cut his mane and tail for his own safety had been the worst one she had ever seen.

Truth be told, it had hurt her, too. Justin and her had always threatened to cut them because of how terrible the grooming process was. Of course they’d never gone through with it, after all Onyx had always taken pride in his mane and tail (Montana wanted to judge him for it, really, but who was she to do so, considering how important her hair was for her, too?). It had been nothing more than a joke.

But actually having to do it because it could one day be the difference between life and death for him…

Shaking her head the former blacksmith apprentice turned her focus back on the present. Her fingers didn't feel the warmth from Onyx’s nose as she gently stroked it.

Of course she didn't. It had been ages since she had been able to feel any kind of warmth. The wildlife she hunted and cooked for food didn't feel warm to her, either. It wasn't cold and for the tiniest of seconds she was almost able to feel the heat of it as she bit down but immediately after the meat simply felt… not cold. It was weird to describe it and even weirder to actually eat.

Not even fire itself was of any use to her. The bandage that wrapped around her lower left arm and was hidden beneath her thermo clothing was a cruel reminder of that. Had Onyx not cried out when it happened it was unlikely she would've noticed the burn at all.

“Ready to head over to Jasper's farm?”

A soft snort was all the response she got. Montana gave the shire one last pat on his nose before she placed her axe in the scabbard she had taken (stolen) from one of the abandoned Jorvik Rangers Stations in Mistfall and attached to Onyx's saddle before she swung herself on the horse's back.

With her plan of taking the mountain range path instead of riding past the Equestrian Center- or what was left of it- the trek towards Golden Hills was still a good hour away. The chance of encountering both zombies or other survivors were much lower that way which was just up to her liking. Weeding out zombies was exhausting and she didn't have the energy for that after today's stunt.

Looking up at the fading sun they'd most likely arrive after nightfall.

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As she slipped through the metal gate Montana let out a string of curses. Her right hand had gotten caught on one of the broken metal bars and cut through her shirt. There was already a trail of blood forming, reaching from her index finger across the back of her hand all the way down to the right corner of her wrist.

Onyx let out a worried whine at her reaction, nervously scratching at the ground with his hoofs. He hadn't liked the idea of her looking for Jasper all on her own from the start.

“It's nothing. I'll be fine.”

Judging from his pinned back ears and continued scratching at the pavement her poor attempt at sounding reassuring wasn't working at all.

With a heavy sigh she motioned towards the riding arena to where Onyx, after a ten second stare down, started heading.

If he wanted to it would be no problem for the shire to kick down what was left of the gate, they both knew it. The only reason Onyx had refrained from doing so was that Montana wouldn't have it. Neither the noise nor the potential injuries were worth having him accompany her on the little trip. A five minute trip from the gate to the farm. Maybe she could make it in two if she ran. He was being dramatic.

Hopefully she wouldn't have to run.

Heading towards the old farm Montana couldn't help the sinking feeling in her stomach. Maybe it was wrong or even stupid to look for old man Jasper, but she had to. Not just for her own peace of mind but also the Moorlands. If she ever saw them again she could at least tell them about him. They were the only ones she still had left after her grandma had…

Pushing that memory back to the dark corners of her mind she started to observe her surroundings more closely.

There weren't any zombies around that she could see or hear. Not even the wolves that would usually howl at this time of night made a sound. No insects, no wind, nothing.

‘Something is wrong’ the thought kept repeating in the back of her mind as she got closer to the farmhouse. Something or someone was in the area that nature itself was terrified of.

‘Rule number one: if you're out in the wild and everything goes quiet, leave. Nature doesn't go silent unless something horrible is about to happen.’ It had been an offhand comment by one of the Jorvik Rangers- Rachel, maybe?- when they got talking after she had dropped off a delivery from the blacksmith. Back then Montana didn't think much of it, though after the incident she'd more than internalized that rule.

The sound of dry leaves crunching beneath her boots seemed deafeningly loud in the dead of night.

Trying to redirect her focus on the mission she had set for herself the uneasy feeling in her stomach only grew the closer she got to the house. It was hard to make out in the dark before but now she could see the front door was wide open, left hanging onto a single hinge that threatened to give out any second. Some of the windows were broken, the railing around the porch destroyed and even some of the tiles from the roof were missing.

There was no chance in hell Jasper was still around, at least not alive. She should go back. She knew she should go back. All she had to defend herself with was a knife- it wasn't bad, better than nothing, but the thought of being without her axe made her insides turn and not in a good way.

'It's fine. Calm down. At least look if there's some food left. That way the trip wasn't completely useless’ as she set foot on the porch the creaking of the wood almost caused her to turn around and make a run back to the gate right then and there.

She waited a second.

Then another one.

There was no reaction from… well, anything around her. No breeze, no sound of animals or zombies, no rustling of bushes or grass. Nothing changed. Just quiet. Too quiet.

It felt like a pair of eyes was watching her.

Shaking her head Montana mumbled to herself while walking over to the front door: “Get a grip.”

She was getting paranoid. Which was probably a good thing considering the whole zombie-apocalypse-shit that was going on. Better safe than bitten.

Still. It made her feel crazy, even if it was just a little bit.

Maybe she was turning crazy. When had she last held an actual conversation with another human being? Was it the time she had given that rider with the injured leg the warning about the collapsed bridge at Valedale Lake? Or when she shared some of her water with that blond-haired girl in Mistfall? These days everything seemed to blend in together.

Wake up. Travel around. Kill zombies. Look for food. Find shelter for the night. Repeat the next morning. The longest period of time she had spent in one place had been a week and that was back when she had been at the Valley.

Sitting around doing nothing felt wrong. Thinning out the zombies at least gave her a purpose. Like she was doing something useful.

Her thoughts came to a screeching halt as she entered the living room of the old farmhouse.

Flipped over furniture and broken glass was scattered around with books and photo frames thrown into the mix.

And the remnants of what had once been Jasper Holbrook laying on the floor.

It wasn't surprising, not really. Jasper had been old and stubborn and probably refused to join the G.V. because his farm “wasn't that far away.”

That didn't mean it didn't hurt. He was one of the last people she had left that she actually cared about, that she had considered family. To see his body mauled and eaten by those disgusting, wretched, abominations-

Blind rage or grief, it was hard to tell the cause of the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.

'Don't cry. Don't you fucking cry.’

Swiftly turning around Montana headed to the kitchen, the back of her uninjured hand viciously rubbing at the corners of her eyes. Crying won't solve anything. It wouldn't help her, it sure as fuck wouldn't help Jasper. Finding food that hadn't been raided by survivors would help. Finding a first aid kit would help.

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Canned green beans and pumpkin purée, crispbread and raisins. Sure, it wasn't the best selection of food and sure as hell not something the former blacksmith apprentice would usually go for, but who could afford to be picky in an apocalypse? The big bottles of water were a good addition as well. Something with more flavor would've been nice though.

‘Man, I miss Energy Drinks’

Did it feel silly thinking about missing the fuel for her caffeine and sugary drink addiction? Yes. Was it at least somewhat helpful in keeping her feel normal-ish? Also yes. Humor had always been her coping mechanism, much to the dismay of others, and now there was no one but Onyx to judge her for her warped sense of keeping spirits high. Or the attempt therefor.

There was still the feeling of dread following her as she sat down on the porch steps and pulled out the fresh bandages she had found in a first aid kit. Disinfectant wasn't something she had been able to acquire though so the bottle of vodka she had found needed to do.

Taking a sniff from the bottle the former blacksmith apprentice considered taking a sip before eventually deciding against it. Alcohol had never been something she actively sought out, at least not in a comforting way. Self-hatred had driven her to many things but at least alcoholism wasn't one of them.

She could almost hear Justins disapproving sigh in the back of her mind.

Her face twisted in discomfort as the bottle's contents poured over the torn skin of her hand. The sting common for alcohol coming into contact with wounds accompanied by the icy cold feeling of the liquor send multiple shivers down her spine. It was as if a thousand tiny icicles bore into the already aching wound. She quickly set down the now half empty bottle beside her as another colorful string of curses left her lips.

“Stupid stupid stupid sealed magic!”

Montana shook her hand vigorously as if she would be able to shake the pain away, too. Pressing down on the cut with a crumpled up tissue she let out a quiet groan. ‘The things I do to prevent a fucking infection.’

Justin should be proud of her. She was taking care of herself. Somewhat.

As soon as the aching had faded to a dull pain the girl removed the tissue and started wrapping the bandage around her hand. At the very least it had stopped bleeding.

After the rest of the vodka and bandages had been stowed away in her bag Montana stood up from the porch, giving her surroundings one last look before-

Snap

The world seemed to freeze. Her pulse skyrocketed. Blood pumped through her veins with such an intensity she almost felt warm. Her mind was racing, going through every possible scenario of what that could've been, of what she had to defend herself with, of what her chances of survival were depending on her opponent.

Every single fiber in her body told her to run, to flee, to get away from there holy shit your going to die-

Rustling. There was the slightest rustling coming from a bush not too far away and out of the corner of her eye she could see a hooded figure emerging from the direction.

Without a second or even first thought Montana started to sprint. Toward the gate, towards her exit, towards safety. It wasn't strategic or graceful or even thought through. It was pure, primal survival instinct.

There was commotion behind her. More rustling. The breaking of branches and crunching of leaves. Footsteps.

She didn't dare turn around. This wasn't a matter of who was stronger but who was faster. Luckily for her adrenaline and the fear of dying did wonders for one's presumed limits.

But it wasn't good enough.

Halfway across the path something jumped her back. The girl's face was smashed into the muddy ground beneath her feet, muffling her groaning and screaming. She faintly registered the pain shooting through her nose and temple as they collided with the ground but didn't dare to focus on it.

The weight on her back shifted, a hand pressing down her head while another pulled at her scarf and turtleneck. In a matter of milliseconds, before she even had any chance to do something, there were two sharp objects piercing her skin. Her cry was muffled by the mud, hands balling into fists as a pain shot from her neck through her nervous system.

Something was biting her and she was completely helpless.

'Fight.’

‘Fight!’

‘God-fucking-dammit fight you useless bitch!'

The all too familiar rage filling her veins helped fuel the fire in her chest. With not even half a mind on what she was doing and the rest focused on surviving Montana tried reaching for the knife strapped to her leg. Her right arm had been trapped under her own body and the struggle to get it out seemingly caught the attention of who or whatever had attacked her. The stinging pain in her neck deepened as the hand that presumably had held her clothes now was pushing down on her right shoulder.

This couldn't be it.

This wouldn't be it.

She was tough. She was strong. No fucking chance she would let herself be killed just like that.

Racking her brain for something she could do to escape other than uselessly wiggling her body beneath the weight on top of her and her left hand hitting against what was probably the back of the thing an idea finally popped into her mind.

Putting as much force as she could behind it Montana slammed her head up and back, colliding the back of her skull with the forehead of her attacker.

Finally. The things- teeth most likely now that she gave it an actual thought- left her neck as the thing above her cursed.

Without a second to lose she gave another headbutt, ignoring the pain it sent through her own skull, before putting all her energy into rolling them both over. After two rolls she managed to shake the thing- person?- off her back. After three she scrambled to her feet and started running towards the gate again, putting a good distance between her and her attacker.

Again, she didn't care to look at whatever had attacked her before starting to sprint. She needed to get out. Needed to get to Onyx and her axe. Survival was more important than information.

Slipping through the gate in a haste it seemed almost ironic that she didn't sustain any injuries now that she wasn't being careful.

There were no footsteps behind as she sprinted towards the riding arena, her legs carrying her even faster once she spotted Onyx’s silhouette in the distance.

Seeing his rider running towards him the shire didn't waste a second and started galloping towards her. Only once they had reached each other did the two of them stop, Montana panting from exhaustion as Onyx whined loudly and positioned himself between her and the direction of the gate, ears pinned back and nostrils flared.

As she heaved herself up into the saddle the girl didn't waste any time on waiting for only god knew what had attacked her to show itself.

“We're leaving.”

Her voice was raspy, eyes staring into space as she gripped the reins tightly and let Onyx take the lead, galloping towards the direction of the mountain path they had come from. The aches all over her body, her hand, neck, head and nose slowly started to register as her pulse calmed down.

‘What in the actual hell just happened?’

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Montana doesn't know where she is. Actually, she doesn't remember anything that happened the last few days- weeks? Everything is a blurry mess. She doesn't remember how she got here, where Onyx is or why she was kneeling beside a corpse.

….

‘What?’

Her hands tremble as she looks over to the dead body laying beside her. The girl's jaw is slack, a silent scream leaving her pale lips. Her eyes are wide open, lifeless and staring into space.

There's a strong taste of iron in Montana’s mouth causing her to subconsciously lick her lips only for her tongue to graze something sharp. She winces, lifting one hand to tap along her lips and realizes her canine teeth are way sharper than she remembered. Longer too, now that she thought about it.

Thirsty. She was so, so thirsty. As if she hadn't had a single drop of water in weeks. Looking around for any possible source of water she went through what she currently knew.

‘A dead person. Sharp teeth. Blood in your mouth. A memory gap.’ While turning her head back to the corpse beside her she saw two holes, not even as big as her pinky's fingernail, at the base of the neck. The person seemed pale, weirdly so. As if all life had been sucked out of them.

As the pieces of the puzzle started falling into place the former blacksmith apprentice started shaking her head, trying, and failing, to get up from the ground. Something in her brain clicked and she started scrambling backwards on her hands and feet. Away from the corpse. Away from what she now realized had once been Judy.

Judy. Sweet, nice, Judy that worked at the Equestrian Center. Laying dead at her feet with an empty expression toward the afternoon sky.

With half a thought to not alert any possible zombies that may be lurking nearby Montana clasped her hands over her mouth before she started screaming.

Screaming at the sight of Judy, dead and lifeless and so, so pale.

Screaming at the thought that she had to have done this.

Screaming over the agonizing realization that whatever had happened at Jaspers Farm had fundamentally changed her.

Safety was nothing but an illusion. A thin veil of pretense that could be ripped apart any second if you weren’t careful enough. No matter how hard you try to protect something, in a matter of seconds it could all come crashing down on you. Like a house of cards that could be toppled by just the smallest blow of wind.

It was something the Valley Community had almost forgotten. Being hidden away in the frozen valley for so long without a single incident had given them a false sense of security. Most of them had believed that with the main entrance sealed off and the gate protecting them they were safe. They were hidden, shut off from the rest of the island where, except for the few other shelters, chaos had taken over. 

Even Montana had started to believe that, perhaps, this could be some sort of safe zone. That she finally could breath and relax and not have to expect a horde suddenly disturbing her peace. After all it had been over two weeks and nothing zombie related had happened to them. Why should there? No one had used excessive amounts of magic. They should be safe. 

That false sense of security had come tumbling down on them in a matter of seconds. Not just the Valedale but also the Silverglade horde had come charging through the gates, led by a horrific looking zombie. The sheer force of both hordes at once had been enough to overpower the defenses that the community had set up, destroying the gate and storming the Valley in a matter of mere seconds. Despite everyone giving their best to fight back against the seemingly never ending onslaught of zombies, most of the community hadn't had any combat experience and were ill suited for the scenario. Even with the Hunters and Riders going all out, the sheer surprise and unpreparedness of an attack was enough to overpower them. The Soul Riders and Katja were doing their best to protect as many people as they could while Jay and Sabine had gone off to search for Florence. 

Florence, who apparently had grown a consciousness about how fucked up it was to turn people into vampires and decided to run away. Great day, really. 

Dodging a zombie running straight at her before quickly turning around and throwing her axe at the undead. As the metal collided with the back of its head it let out a scream that was quickly stifled by Montana jumping its back and throwing it on the ground. Her hands- claws- wrapped around the thin, purple neck. Tearing off the zombie's head with nothing but her own hands came as easy as pulling an apple off a tree. 'Vampire strength sure is scary’ 

With all her focus put into taking out as many zombies as possible while not getting injured too badly herself she hadn't even registered Cornelia and Kara starting an escape operation. Not until Loretta had called out her name, quickly motioning for her to move over before shooting at a quickly approaching zombie. 

With a grunt she removed her axe from the decapitated skull, Onyx following close behind her as they moved towards the evacuating group. Finding her place at the end of the group and helping with fighting off any of the undead that tried to go after them. This way she had more range of motion while also reducing the risk of people accidentally getting in her way and injuring them. 

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Montana could hear the crowd of horses and people move further into the tunnel behind her. The amount of bullets flying through the air died down with every second that seemed to pass, the ammunition slowly but surely running out. Gritting her teeth she swung her axe at the zombie running towards her. Just as it’s head dropped to the ground two more zombies charged at her. With a quick motion she flipped the direction in which the bigger blade was pointing before swinging again. In a matter of seconds she decapitated one of the zombies before ducking and moving behind the second one. The next head dropped into the blood stained snow, her shoulders heaving as the vampire tried to momentarily catch her breath. 

A gurgling scream sounded from behind her, causing her head whip around just in time to see Onyx kicking a particularly big zombie with his hind legs. There was a loud cracking sound as hoofs collided with the side of its skull, sending it crashing to the ground before the shire turned and stomped down on the sickly purple head. Bone splinters and blood went flying through the air, a satisfied huff coming from her horse as he stepped away from the freshly mangled undead. 

“I owe you, buddy.” 

Most of what was left of the Valley was already inside the tunnel with even the defenses against the zombies being a good distance behind her. There were still some zombies coming out of it with the additional headache of the ones following them. 

Still, it was a lot less than it had been before. They could manage this. They had to manage this. What would have been the point of all the suffering she had gone through the last couple of months if she lost it now? 

Weighing her options Montan put her axe in the scabbard attached to Onyx’s saddle. Every minute she spent on the ground would put even more distance between herself and the fleeing community while simultaneously putting her closer to the crowd of the zombies chasing them. 

Reaching for the saddle she was about to pull herself up onto her horse, she just had to stretch her arm a little further and-

Bony fingers clawed at her shoulders and back, ripping her away from the shire and onto the cold ground. Multiple rotten mouths were trying to take a bite out of her face as more claws dug into one of her arms, pinning it to the ground. 

Her heart started racing even more than before, adrenaline and anxiety pumping through her veins as she tried her best to avoid the teeth that were just millimeters away from her face. Behind her Onyx gave a desperate cry, pacing around the bloodied snow. He knew that he couldn't kick at the undead, not without risking injuring Montana as well. Help from the other members was no use either, no one would risk getting bitten for a vampire. 

With a desperate scream her free hand was engulfed in a burst of magenta flames, swinging at the zombies. Her brain didn't even register the pain of her knuckles connecting with bones due to the freezing cold around her and the adrenaline in her bloodstream.

Even with her best efforts the everlasting blizzard made it impossible for her fire to deal significant damage. If only she was as powerful as the Soul Riders or Dark Riders. But no, she was just an ordinary witch. This was the best her strength would allow her, the best she could do. It was slowing them down a little, yes, but usually it would’ve made the little amount that was left of their skin and flesh melt right off. 

Onyx kept crying out behind her as more of the zombies started running past them. Taking another swing at the nearest one the former blacksmith apprentice looked around only to realize that they were slowly but surely going to be surrounded soon. Frowning she clenched her fists tighter, her own sharp nails digging into the skin of her palm and creating little cuts. Just a bit more magic. Just a bit more power. She had to do something.

Without even realizing it, static started to crackle alongside the flames dancing across her hands and arms, neon pink and magenta mixing as she threw another punch. 

For a split second her eyes widened in horror as she realized what had happened. A sharp pain shot through her chest and lungs as the birthmark hidden beneath layers of clothing flared up. Fire and lightning mixed as her fist collided with a bony jaw. 

There was a bright flash of white and pink light, a searing pain in her right eye and ringing in her left ear. She was faintly aware of Onyx’s panicked cry. 

Her vision turned black before her body even hit the ground. 

ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ઇଓ

Just as they had made their way a bit further down into the tunnel Loretta could hear something that sounded way too much like an explosion for her liking behind them. Her stomach twisted as she shot at another zombie, managing to hit its throat and severing the head. What in the hell could've caused an explosion? Most of the community was in front of her. She was almost at the rear end of the survivor group, only a few other riders armed with guns or machetes were even further behind. That and-

Sending a glance over to Justin made the uneasy feeling inside her stomach only worse. It had been a good while since she had seen a specific shire and by the looks of it neither had Justin. Onyx markings paired with his height were almost impossible to miss and he for sure wasn’t with them or the few others behind them. And if Onyx was missing, that meant his rider was as well. Justin was looking back at where the explosion had sounded from, his face twisted in horror and worry as he stopped Saga in her tracks. Stopping Bartok alongside him she looked over to him and their eyes met. 

“Mo is still back there.” 

He was about to turn the Irish draft around when the former club leader managed to get a hold of the reins, keeping the mare from turning around and glaring at her friend. 

“What in the actual hell do you think you’re doing?” It felt as if she almost had to scream to make her voice be heard over the commotion around them. Another zombie tried to claw at her feet and she let go of the others reins in order to shoot a bullet through its eye socket. Standing still in the middle of the tunnel filled with zombies was truly a great way of getting both of them killed. Not that the group was moving fast, but anything was better than a complete stand still.

“Someone has to help her!” As he was about to turn the mare around a second time Loretta reached for the reins again, yanking at them hard enough to have Saga protest the motion. 

“Getting yourself killed or bitten isn’t going to help her!” 

The defeated and frustrated look on his face almost made her feel bad. Almost. 'Seriously, is Montana’s recklessness rubbing off on him?’ 

“But-” 

“You don't have any experience in dealing with zombies! How do you think you're going to help her?” Seeing as Justin didn't have an answer to that, because that idiot obviously hadn't thought this great idea of his through, Loretta sighed. She let go of Sagas' reins, turning Bartok around before announcing: “I’ll go and check on her, you keep going with the rest.”

Justin was about to open his mouth in protest, causing her to glare at him enough that it shut him up immediately. 

Softening her gaze a little she added: “She’s my friend, Justin. I promise I will bring her back.” 

Had anyone told her a year ago that she’d one day be risking her own life to save Montana Opalheart, Loretta would have suggested they have their head checked for a concussion. But with everything that had happened, with all the things and people, friends and family they had lost… 

She wasn’t ready to bury another friend. Spurring Bartok on, the two galloped the opposite direction of where the survivors were going. Away from the growing warmth and back into the eternal blizzard they had started to call home.

Once they exited the tunnel there were close to no zombies left in the nearby area. The ones that did were nothing more than hacked up bodies with holes and missing limbs or heads. In a matter of mere seconds she had located Montana and Onyx, or rather Onyx had located them. 

The shire was pacing back and forth, ears almost flat against his head as he looked around with a wild, nervous look in his eyes. As soon as he spotted them a loud whine echoed through the cold air. Bartok answered with a shrill whine of his own, coming to a stop just inches away from the other gelding. There was a figure laying in the snow behind Onyx, one with short black hair and bleach blond ends and a blue scarf around their neck. 

Sliding down from her warmblood’s back Loretta could feel her heart rate spike again. ‘Aideen, she can’t be dead, right? Please don’t let her be dead.’ 

Montana and her had always had their little fights and ugly nicknames, yes, but that didn’t mean they didn’t like each other. 

The shire didn’t protest as the former club leader ran around him. Crouching in the snow and turning the vampire onto her back Loretta could swear her heart stopped for a second.   

ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ઇଓ

Montana knew she had to get up. They were in the middle of an evacuation, there were zombies all around them and she was just laying there. She had to get up, she had to fight, had to make herself useful. If only her stupid body listen! Everything felt so heavy, her limbs, head, torso. Nothing would move. 

‘It would be so easy to give in, to fall back unconscious. To have this be the end.’ 

Maybe the second time it would work? 

Someone was there at her side. Someone human, their voice sounding as if it was far beneath the ocean. They were shaking her rather aggressively with some not-so-light pats on her cheeks. Desperately trying to wake her up. Someone had come looking for her. 

‘Why?’

No, no. Now was not the time to let those thoughts win. Not when she had just been fighting tooth and nail to get out of this, to survive. She had to make sure Onyx and Justin were safe. She had to get up, to open eyes, she had to-! 

“Montana! Goddamnit wake up!” 

That voice was familiar. Way too familiar. One she had argued with only the gods knew how often over stable chores and fashion choices.

A hard slap across her cheek made her gasp. Finally managing to open her eyes the former blacksmith apprentice groaned at the much too blinding light coming from the snow around her. Squeezing her eyes shut again she let out a groan as the other rider grabbed at her hands and started to pull her up. 

“Get up! We have to leave! Aideen why are you so heavy?”

“Loretta?” Fuck, everything hurt. Grabbing her friend's arms together they managed to pull her up. “It's called having muscles.” 

Parts of her were already wet from laying in the snow, the feeling of biting cold against her skin only exacerbated by the blizzard around them. Not to mention the right side of her face hurt like hell.

“Muscles my ass, what are they feeding you vampires.” Never in her life had she heard Loretta sound so relieved when talking to her. Even while she was still squinting at her surroundings the rider was ushering her towards what must've been Onyx. “Get up, hurry, we have to get out of here.” 

Blinking a few more times her vision started to clear up, shapes and details coming more into focus as her eyes adjusted to the bright light around them.

But something felt off. No matter how many times Montana blinked, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was severely wrong. 

Putting a hand up to her face she realized that her field of vision was smaller than usual. When she focused on her nose she could no longer see her fingers as soon as they reached the right side of it.

The panic from before settled back into her veins as the realisation hit her like a lightning bolt. 

“Wh- what-” 

Before the vampire could put her hand fully on the right side of her face Loretta grabbed her arm, causing her to turn her head and look at the blonde. 

There was worry and panic on her face, though she seemed to try her hardest to come off as calm as she physically could.

“Let’s focus on that when we’re somewhere safe.” 

After climbing onto Onyx back and Loretta getting back on Bartok's, the girls hurried to catch up with the rest of the remaining community. The further they got away from the valley the more the injured side of her face started to hurt. While the freezing cold had bitten on her skin, the warm wind and change of temperature had her almost crying. She was gripping Onyx reins as hard as she could with one hand while holding onto the horn of the saddle with the other.

She let Onyx follow after Bartok on his own accord, her mind too busy with focusing on trying not to scream out in pain as to even attempt and register what was going on around them. Not to mention she couldn’t see a single thing that was happening to her right. Otherwise she would’ve seen Cornelia on the ground, struggling against a zombie. 

No matter the sounds around her the vampire refused to look up or around. Only after she could feel Onyx slowing down and hear the rushing of water did she look up.

They were in Valedale, at least by the looks of it. Silversong river was just a couple steps away and Montana didn't hesitate a second to dismount from her horse.

It was anything but graceful, her feet stumbling and almost giving in as they hit the dirt ground beneath her. Her face felt like it was on fire and the world to her right seemed oddly quiet. Not to mention her vision still felt off, wrong. 

The last time she had felt this disoriented, this confused and downright terrified had been after “waking up” from her first feed.

Stumbling towards the riverbank she dropped to her knees once she reached it. Montana’s hands shook as she looked at her distorted reflection in the river water. Even just the slightest touch of her fingertips against the tender skin made her wince. Tears that she had worked so hard to push back started to well up in her eyes, though she could only feel them in one of them. 

Her right ear looked like bacon that had been left on the grill too long and was all sizzled up. The skin around her eye up her ear and a few centimeters further up her head was burnt. A milky white layer seemed to sit atop her right eye, dulling both the pink of her iris and the black of her pupil. Somewhere in the back of her mind the vampire realized how her heart started to beat faster, breathing speeding up. How her whole body wouldn't stop shaking. 

She was on the verge of hyperventilating- no, on the verge of a panic attack. 

‘I’m half blind. I’m half deaf. How am I supposed to survive like this? How am I supposed to help like this?’ 

Everything in her wanted to scream out. To cry and yell and sob and wail. To make her agony known to the world around her. Had she not been through enough already? What kind of sick, cruel prank was this supposed to be that the universe was trying to pull on her-

“Montana, hey, look at me.” 

Tearing her eyes from the water she looked up to see Loretta kneeling down beside her. White gloves gripped her shoulders, squeezing and shaking her slightly as the former club leader continued to talk: “We’re alive. We’re safe. No need to crash out now, okay?”

“I-”

“-am alive. You survived.” There was another shake to emphasize the last part before the girl continued talking. “We’re going to get you patched up and you’ll be fine and then you and Justin can be grossly sweet together, deal? Just please don’t freak out. I wouldn't know what to do if you did.” 

Never had she seen Loretta with this much determination in her eyes, at least nothing that didn't have to do with becoming the next big dressage champion. 

“Don't leave.” Were the only words she managed to get out, lips trembling as she spoke. God, she was terrified. Terrified of what had happened, terrified of what was yet to come. Dying was easy. Being dead was easy. Living? That was already hard enough. But living half blind in a zombie apocalypse?

She was a liability. A hindrance. A weak spot. Could she even still fight properly? Fight at all?

Only once Loretta's expression turned from determination back to panic and there are drops of water falling onto her hands does Montana realize she's crying. She's not even sure what she's crying about. Being alive? Being blind? The stress from the situation crashing down on her or the burning pain in her face? Maybe a combination of it all, of the weeks and months of suppressed frustrations and anger hitting their breaking point. 

Maybe it doesn't matter. 

ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ઇଓ

Hours later what little remained of the Valley Community had gathered in the druid paddocks. Almost no one had come out unscathed, only having some light scratches and bruises were seen as almost a blessing. There were people with broken bones, wounds deep enough to expose bones and cut off limbs and fingers. 

The scent of blood hung heavy in the air, leaving a bitter taste of iron in the vampire's mouth. 

She had retreated to one of the corners of the paddock, far away from the main group of injured people. Far away from people that could stare or try to help. Loretta had left only after endless debates of whether they could do something to help her injury. 

Of course the answer had been no. There was nothing they could do to help her, no wounds to try and bandage or blood to clean up. Cooling the burn was out of the question, there was no cream or ointment at hand and her own knowledge of medicinal herbs was basically nonexistent. All she could do was to sit there on the ground while trying to ignore the burning, pulsating pain in the right side of her face. Onyx was laying beside her, creating a barrier between her and the rest of the community. Whether it was to protect her peace from them or them from her was hard to tell. 

The tears had long since dried up, leaving her eyes red and puffy. Earlier she had wanted to scream and sob. To do so until her voice was gone and her throat was left soar. Now she couldn't even bring herself to search Onyx’s saddlebag for a bottle of potion despite the growing hunger in her stomach. Everything hurt, her entire body ached from the strain of battle and having zombies pull and tear on her limbs. The cuts left all over her body would turn into scars if given enough time. 

Given she lived long enough for them to scar. 

Maybe she could just fall asleep and not have to wake up again. Ever. 

Montana can smell Justin before his footsteps are close enough to be singled out from the group. Closing her eyes she presses herself closer against Onyx’ body, the uninjured side of her face almost completely hidden. There's the sound of rummaging through a saddlebag, of Onyx giving a soft snort and someone sitting down next to her. 

The way he says her nickname is low, almost a whisper. As if he isn't sure if she's asleep and doesn't want to risk waking her up. For a moment she thinks about pretending, to not react and make him leave. To be alone with her thoughts and sorrows and voices in her head.

But she doesn't want to be alone. Not really. Not if it's him.

Turning her head she looks at her boyfriend. There's a streak of dried blood across his cheek that has her panicking before she remembers that she had been the one to put it there, to keep him safe. 

“Montana-” He grabs the arm that's holding her axe, causing her to stop in her tracks. 

“I'm of better use on the front lines.” Letting her fangs drop she drags her thumb across one of them, creating a little cut. Just enough for it to bleed. She wipes it across Justin's cheek, below his eye. “To keep you safe.” 

Pressing a quick kiss against his lips she breaks free from his grip, yelling: “Don't wipe it off!” as she runs straight towards the attacking zombies. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Tired.” 

God, they both sound like shit. She lets her shoulders drop, knees that had been pulled up to her chest sliding down just a little.

“Everything hurts.” Trying to push a strand of hair out her face and accidentally touching the burn wound makes her wince in pain. Some of the hair had been burned off with the explosion and left behind a mess. 

“Need help?” 

Giving a tired nod Montana closes her eyes as he rearranges her hair, flipping her side part to the opposite side as to avoid her hair coming in contact with her wound. 

She's glad that he doesn't ask what happened. Beside the fact that (given people knew her circumstances) it was rather obvious, it seemed like something extremely embarrassing to admit. 

“I’m sure I look horrendous now. Like a freak.” She can't look him in the eye as the words leave her lips. Not when it was how she truly felt despite her attempts to make it sound like a joke.

“How dare you talk like that about my Sparks.” Justin’s arm wraps around her shoulder as he's talking in a soft voice. His other hand is offering her a bottle of potion, no doubt the reason he had been looking through the saddlebag earlier. “You're alive. You're breathing. Anything else doesn't matter.” A soft kiss is pressed against her temple as she sips on the potion without much enthusiasm. “And for the record, I think you look like my girlfriend.” 

For a second she stops, the brim of the bottle still resting on her bottom lip as the words settle in. Had there been any tears left they would've rolled down her cheeks. 

“Montana?” Tearing her eyes from the ground she looks over to Justin, the tone of his voice weirdly serious all of a sudden. Despite the fact that he was holding out one of his pinkies the look on his face was so intense it made her worry she'd done something wrong. “Promise me, whatever happens, you'll do everything you can to stay alive. To come back home. Swear it on my moms grave.” 

‘I can’t. I don't want to.’ She was so tired of staying alive. Of surviving. Couldn't he see that? 

As their eyes meet his serious facade began to crack, hopelessness and worry bleeding through.

“If not for yourself then for me.”

It was just a whisper, a plea laced with desperation. 

That boy sure knew how to play his cards right. 

Swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat Montana wrapped her pinky around his, her eyes never leaving his as she spoke.

“For you. I swear on your mothers grave, I'll stay alive for you.”

The way Justin's shoulders slumped with relief you would've thought the weight of the world had been lifted from him. In a matter of seconds he has his girlfriend gathered in his arms, head resting atop hers as he holds her close. Another kiss is pressed against the top of her head, followed by a low “I love you. Don't forget that.” 

Florence grinned and moved past Justin, pulling out her iPod from her front pocket. 

“Got the correct cables?” she asked, making her way over to the sound system. “I think we could do with a little fun.”

“Yes and yes,” Justin agreed, pulling out the necessary cables. “Besides, it’ll piss off granddad.” 

The reincarnate raised an eyebrow at the familiarity between Sands and Justin before plugging in her favorite device in the world. Justin made sure everything was hooked up and ready and then, Florence pressed shuffle. 

For the first time in six months, music filled the air at the Valley Community.

ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ઇଓ

Luckily for Montana the crowd in the Valley Community had put all their focus on Florence and the Soul Riders, allowing her to steer Onyx away from all the people. Her heart was racing as the thought of 'get away from the people' kept repeating in her head over and over, the biting cold of the area barely registering to her. There were a few confused glances her way which she couldn’t blame the people for, she was only wearing a tank top and scarf while being out in a land of eternal winter. Still, no one questioned her presence, simply moving out the way once they saw a shire trotting their way. Maybe there were people in the crowd she knew. Maybe somewhere amongst them were Maya or Thomas or Tan. 

She couldn’t face them. Not after everything she’d done. 

“Guys, leave them the fuck alone,” Justin. Hearing his voice over the speakers made her heart flutter before it immediately dropped into her stomach.

God, what would he think of her? 

She barely registered as Onyx started to canter, the crowd no longer as dense as it had been before. 

Only once they had reached a place away from all the people, the heartbeats, the blood, did the girl bring her horse to a stop and get off his back. There was a worried whine and the sound of hooves following her as she headed for the treeline. She needed to think. Needed to come up with a plan to get out of here. Get away before she hurt the only ones she still had left. 

ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ઇଓ

Montana was cold. She was so, so fucking cold. The blanket that she used to sleep under didn’t help a single bit against the freezing winds of Dinosaur Valley. In an attempt to distract herself from the goosebumps all over her body (which reminded her a bit too much of when her magic had been sealed away) she strained her ears to listen to the faint sounds of music coming from the center of the community. 

She was cuddled up against Onyx, both of them sitting beneath a frost covered tree while she moved her head along to the beat of “Make You Mine” by PUBLIC.

"Well, I will call you darlin' and everything will be okay

'Cause I know that I am yours and you are mine"

Honestly, what was she even doing? Just a couple minutes ago her and Onyx had been walking along what once had been the Red String Trail in Firgrove when all of a sudden a portal opened beneath them. There hadn’t even been time to react in any sort of way before she had found herself in the middle of the Valley Community alongside the Dark Riders and Soul Riders. 

'Seriously, how the hell did that happen? Portals don’t just open up beneath people.' 

Something or someone had to open it directly beneath them to ensure both her and Onyx fully made it through. This implied someone had been tracking her, if not downright stalking her. 

On top of that she arrived alongside the others which meant her destination wasn’t random. That someone or something wanted her here.

It couldn’t have been Anne. For as much as the situation had confused her, the former blacksmith apprentice knew for a fact the portal had been blue. So none of the Soul RIders or druids were to blame for this.

It had to have been a witch. And that still didn’t answer the big question as to why this was going on.

With a frustrated groan she rubbed her face before dropping her head in her hands.

“What in the actual fuck is going on?” 

There was no response from Onyx. Of course there wasn’t. Just the sound of faint music and howling winds.

“Put your hand in mine 

You know that I want to be with you all the time

You know that I won’t stop until I make you mine” 

The ever growing sound of snow crunching beneath boots tuned out the music in the distance.

Wait.

Scrambling to her feet Montana turned in the direction of the footsteps, the blanket falling from her shoulders and hand hovering over the knife strapped to her thigh. Months of living in the wilderness kicked in, her heart racing as she was ready to fight whatever came near her when-

“Montana?” 

Right then, on the outskirts of the Valley Community, with freezing winds biting at her skin and adrenaline pumping through her veins, the world seem to stop.

“Justin?” 

She let her shoulders sag, hands falling against her sides as she got a good look at him. How long had it been since she’d last seen him? How many months? Keeping track of time had become somewhat irrelevant while traveling so she genuinely couldn’t tell. 

It was hard to tell if her heart was racing or about to stop. The overwhelming joy of finally seeing him again conflicted with the thoughts of he 'doesn’t know you’re dangerous, you have to get away before you hurt him' rendered her unable to move as he rushed towards her. 

Even with her best efforts she couldn’t react, couldn’t move or speak. Countless nights had been spent on imagining how- if- they met again and now that Justin was standing right in front of her she couldn’t do shit. 

“Oh god, come here, you must be freezing.” Worry and relief were written all over his face as he pulled off the G.E.D coat he was wearing and started wrapping it around her shoulders. 

Montana could feel his breath against her face as he pulled the coat around her shoulders, eyes flickering to different spots across his face all the while avoiding directly looking into his eyes. Her hands automatically grabbed onto the fabric and her fingers brushed against his in the process. The warmth radiating from them managed to get something in her brain to finally start working again as her voice, raw with emotions and so, so small filled the space between them: “Justin- no, don't- stay- stay away-” 

“You're alive.” The words seemingly didn’t even register in his brain as arms, warm and strong and familiar wrapped around her, pressing their bodies close against one another. Her hands were squished between them and she could feel him rest his head atop hers. 

She didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve a welcome back or hug and certainly not Justin’s kindness. Not with the things she’d done. The things he didn’t know about. The things she had to tell him, otherwise how could she ever look him in the eyes again?  

“Justin, please let go.” Why did she have to sound so damn weak? For the past god-knows-how-long she had had a great run of keeping her tough guy image up. And now Justin was ruining it. 

“No fucking way. I'm not letting you leave again.” His arms squeezed her even tighter, pulling them impossibly closer. Usually she’d find it to be sweet, adorable even. Now it only added onto her anxiety, the panic flowing through her veins of 'what if you lose control, what if you bite him, what if '

“Please.” The whisper was desperate. Pleading. The fears were irrational, she knew that. She had fed recently and her bag had enough meat to help subdue the hunger for a good while. Not once since keeping this routine up had she lost control.

The only time (aside from her first victim) she had lost it was when she had deliberately tried to starve herself to death. Since then the former blacksmith apprentice had learned her lesson. 

But her brain wasn’t thinking right. The fear of accidentally hurting Justin, one of the last people she had left in this shitshow of a world, was much louder than the logical part of her brain. “I'm dangerous-”

“You know what Sabine said isn't-”

“This isn't about that!”

Finally regaining the ability to move she put one of her hands up to his chest and pushed him away. Not hard enough to make him stumble or fall, just enough to put some distance between them. Turning her face towards anything but Justin she pulled the coat tighter around her shoulders. It was at least somewhat comforting to have something to physically hold on to. Letting out a shaky breath she turned her head back towards his direction, still unable to look him directly in the face. 

Never. Not a single time had she admitted it out loud what she had become. It was enough to know it, wasn’t it? Why should she say it out loud? To make it feel more real? The fangs she had retracted as soon as she had appeared in the Valley and the hunger for blood were more than real enough. 

“I'm a vampire. And yes, I know it sounds ridiculous but it's true! I got turned into a vampire.” There. She had said it. Now he knew. The vomit of words that followed weren’t planned. It didn’t really matter if Justin knew those parts. But something inside her needed those things to be said out loud as well. To have them off her chest. “I've killed people to eat them and I tried to starve myself to death, trust me I really did, but there is this primal hunger or survival instinct or whatever the fuck it is and it wants me to survive and I really should leave-”

“No.” It was firm, louder than her own voice and very effective in making Montana stop her little rant. Hands gripped her shoulders, warm and steady. When she finally looked up she was met with a soft yet determined gaze, her shoulders dropping just the slightest bit as he talked: “No. You just got back. I'm not letting you leave.”

“Justin-” 

“We'll figure something out. We always do.” The grip on her shoulders tightened, the determination in his eyes only growing more prominent. It made her want to hope. His tone, his voice, the look in his eyes. Just being with him. She wanted to hope they could figure something out. To have even an ounce of the optimism he always possessed no matter the situation. 

But she knew it was no use. As if she hadn’t already tried every single thing she could think of to find a way out, to find some substituted or cure or anything to help her out of this fucking mess. 

Shaking her head Montana dropped her gaze back to the snow on the ground beneath them. Her voice turned bitter as she spoke again: “Meat can work as a supplement but there's no way around the blood part-”

“Then you can have some of mine.” Looking up and seeing Justin’s completely unbothered face, as if he hadn’t just suggested she feed off of him, baffled her more than the fact he had said it in the first place. “Sharing is caring, right?” 

It took her a few seconds to react, mouth open in disbelief and feeling as if her eyes were going to fall out of her head. 

“Are you insane?!” She was dating an idiot. A moron. Maybe she was a lunatic but Justin was an airhead. 

“Maybe!” He threw his hands up in the air before ever so gently cupping her face. “But if there's any way I can help you I'll take it.”

'Unbelievable' 

If she hadn’t been holding on to that damn coat of his she’d grab onto his wrists. Instead she only shook her head again, brows furrowing as her voice took on that desperate tone once more. 

“Did you even listen to anything I've said?”

“Yes and I don't care about any of it. Save for the you're alive part.” How could someone be so stupid? So nonchalant about something so serious? 

“I've done horrible things.”

“I don't care.”

“Justin, I'm a monster. I'm not human anymore.” 

“I don't care.” 

“Did you hear me when I said that I've eaten people-”

“I don't care.”

“You can't just keep saying you don't care!” Oh, she wanted to strangle him so badly. “You should care! You should stay away from me!” Maybe she didn’t have much any care for her own well being, but Justin was different. He was supposed to be the responsible one out of the two of them. The one who cares about his own safety and has morals and good intentions. 

She had to do something, anything, that would get him to understand that she was dangerous, that he had to let her go again. That it would be better for her to never get close to anyone she cared about ever again- 

“Oh, Sparks.” After all the months of separation hearing the nickname he had given her almost made her tear up. The endless barrage of thoughts stopped. One of his hands moved to the back of her head while the other wrapped around her back. She didn’t resist when he pulled her into a hug, his cheek pressed against the side of her head as he continued talking: “I don’t care and I certainly won’t stay away from you.” 

With a defeated sigh Montana buried her face in his shoulder, pressing herself closer against him as her fingers dug even deeper into the coat. 

Maybe, just maybe, she could allow herself this. After all she had wanted nothing more than this for the past few months. She had missed Justin. Missed his voice and face and stupid jokes and how he, unlike her, somehow always knew what to say. 

“You're still you, are you not?” Oh, how terrified she had been to forget what he sounded like, to not be able to remember his laughter and giggles and even scolding. To not be able to hear them again before she died.  

“I… I guess? But the things I've done-” 

“Don't matter to me.” Moving her head just enough so she was able to look at his face Montana wanted to sob as his lips pressed against her forehead. The kiss was soft and warm and gentle. Like it had always been. Like him. “There's a zombie virus going around, we're living in the apocalypse for Aideen's sake, so many people have died. I couldn't care less if you're a human or vampire or werewolf you're alive.”

“Alive and severely fucked up.”

“And it's a loveable fucked up, at least to me.” Letting out an amused huff she pressed a kiss against his stubbled jaw before burying her face back in his shoulder. The hand on her head moved as Justin started running his fingers through her hair, the motion second nature from how often he had done it before. Even with her curls cut short and all the color having faded, leaving nothing but natural black and bleached ends, it was nice. Comforting. A familiarity and security behind it that she had craved so bad while she was all alone. “I missed you. I missed you so, so much, Sparks."

“I missed you, too.” 

The arm wrapped around her waist pulled her impossibly closer, another kiss pressed against the crown of her head. An all too familiar stubbled cheek settling back on top of her head.

“Do you have any idea how worried I was? I didn't know where you were, if you were alive or dead or a zombie.”

“I’m sorry.” And she meant it. Knowing him he must’ve been worried sick.

“You better be, I'm pretty sure you gave me my first gray hair.” This time Montana actually laughed. As the weight of his head lifted from hers and Justin pulled back slightly the former blacksmith apprentice already had a complaint on the tip of her tongue. 

Though, she didn’t even get a chance of voicing said complaint out loud as soft lips pressed against hers and-

Gods. She really had missed him. Closing her eyes and leaning into the kiss Montana could feel his hands cupping her face once more, melting into the touch.

As they parted Justin pressed his forehead against hers, their shared breaths creating small clouds around them.

“We really should get you some new clothes.” 

Fidgeting with the hem of the coat she was still holding onto the girl bit her lip. They eventually had to go back, she knew that. Get back to all the chaos and confusion and people. 

“Can we… can we stay here a bit longer? There's so many people and after being a hermit for the last few months it's- a lot.” 'Let us pretend a little longer. Please.' 

How Justin’s expression could still look softer than it usually did was something that managed to amazed her to this day. A gentle kiss was pressed against the tip of her nose which, along with her cheeks, had turned pink from the cold. The smile spreading across her lips matched his. 

“Okay, not too long though. You’re already shaking and I don’t want you getting sick.” There was a pause, then: “Can you still get sick?”

Shrugging, Montana reached for his hand and pulled him towards where Onyx was still laying in the snow, fluffy ears perking up as he saw them walking towards him. As if he hadn’t been watching (and probably judging) them the entire time.

“No fucking clue. Maybe Florence knows more.” She was already sitting down in the snow, leaning against Onyx and patting the space on her right while her boyfriend simply decided to look at her dumbfounded. With an eye roll she pulled at his hand with just enough force to get him to sit down, her voice dipping into the tone that was usually reserved for talking with the youngest of the camp kids as she explained: “She’s the one who turned me. She’s also a vampire.” 

For a few seconds there came no response, just the mechanical motion of him taking the edge of the coat Montana held out and wrapping it around the both of them. Her blanket was already snow covered from having been left on the ground so that wasn’t an option. 

Once they were bundled up, or at least as best as they could, the former blacksmith apprentice snuggled against him, a contempt sigh leaving her lips as his free hand settled on top of her waist. 

“Anyone else I should know about?” His hand was rubbing up and down her side, most likely in an attempt to help her warm up. Smiling she closed her eyes, relishing in the normalcy of it all (save for the freezing winds around them which she very much tried to ignore).

What exactly had she done to deserve someone like him? 

“That bird girl- Cornelia? Don’t know if there are more though.”

The hand movement stopped, a soft grumble that very much sounded like “I thought I was making a joke.” causing her to snicker. 

There was a surprised shout from which Montana could already guess that Onyx had seen and taken the opportunity to chew on Justins hair. 

“Yeah, I missed you, too, buddy. I missed you, too! Now stop it!” 

Her laughing was accompanied by a happy neigh from Onyx, overshadowing the music in the distance. If not, perhaps they would’ve been able to hear the chorus of ‘Back in My Arms’ from Carlie Hanson playing.

“We go back to the start when you're back in my arms 

Like back when we were laying on your floor

Hoping no one opens up the door”

ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ઇଓ

With the last rays of sunset they decided it was time to start heading back towards the community. Onyx was on her right, Justin to her left. Like they were trying to shield her from seeing the amount of people once they would arrive at the more crowded spaces. As if they wanted to help keep her calm. 

Heh, a whole apocalypse and vampire-fication later and her boys were still looking out for her. Some things really didn’t seem to change.

“So… a vampire?” 

Groaning Montana crossed her arms, the sleeves of the much too big coat dangling in the air. She had, after much back and forth between them, begrudgingly put it on since Justin kept insisting his hoodie was still keeping him much warmer than her tank top would her (he was right, of course. That didn’t mean she liked it).

“It still sounds stupid.” 

“I think it’s ironic.” The wicked grin on his face almost made her regret raising her eyebrow in question. As her boyfriend wrapped his arm around her shoulders to pull her closer against him and put his face next to hers, as if no one else was supposed to hear what he was about to say, her suspicions only grew. “You do hate sucking.”