It had surprised you that you had fallen asleep. No memory's of drifting between the thin line of conscious thought and slumber were present. Only the simple yet sudden black of your eyelids signifying your sudden loss of time.

Just as you had fallen asleep, you had awoke at an unknown hour, one that you danced slowly into between both unconscious and alert fields.

Awake, groggy, and overall a mess of bedhead and sleepers. You felt disgusting from the lack of showers and general grit that covered you. Blood had dried onto your face from previous kills, hunter or not, and began to crust off in flaky bits. If money was still relevant, you would be rich for all the times you've pondered your own grime.

Aside from that, falling asleep in a corner did nothing to help your slowly worsening posture, the muscles in your neck aching with the tightness of their position.

Muscles stretching outwards as you raised your arms in a yawn, you kept your eyes closed despite the worsening feeling of sleeping so curled in on yourself.

Despite being in such an awkward position, you had felt surprisingly comfortable, in whatever strange and weird way. One backpack beside you, one mass of clothes on the other, it almost felt like sitting among two pillows.

"I don't have a pile of clothes..." your voice was raspy to even your own ears.

Cracking the first bleary eye open, your eyes landed on a familiar looking hoodie in the darkness of the room. However ill-lit the office was, it was still easy to tell where he was located. Beside you. Nestled into your side with his nose pressed firmly into your rib cage. To accommodate his intrusion, your arm was pushed straight out by his broad shoulders, jutting in an awkward and sore position..

Purely based on habit, you flinched- as your mind had finally assessed the room- and raised your hands with the need to shove, freezing when a more rational side said to withhold such acts.

As such, your fingers twitched with the want and need to shove him.

He was a clingy two year old. You needed to remember that.

Poised and sleek, piercing claws and muscle strength to rip you apart- yet a two year old.

Shoving him would only make him pouty, yet simply letting him meander and tread over you let him push boundaries you would rather him not push. It was better if he remained passive.

A hard decision.

One you didn't rightly need to make.

The hunter let out a sleepy yawn, teeth glistening as his lips pulled up. A quick snap of his jaw, and he closed his mouth and swallowed, placing his chin onto your hip bone.

Well, he was certainly nestled in.

Too much for comfort.

Standing up and letting him drop, you watched as he shook the sleep off of himself with a low growl before looking up to you. His frown grew just a little bit lighter, and the happier chirp of a rumble sounded in his chest.

You hated to admit it, but it was slightly adorable. If only for the fact that he seemed happy to see you.

Wishful thinking.

You needed to check his wounds.

With gentle movements, you kneeled back down and slipped your hands softly along the sides of his face. The rough material of his hood scratched your arms as you pushed it back, and the fabric hit his back with a quiet poof of air.

In an almost tender stroking motion, you moved your thumb, feeling the cuts and scabbing tissue that lined his otherwise soft face. He leaned into your touch, strong shoulder blades shifting as he moved an arm forward.

The further back you pushed your arms, the further forward he seemed to lean, until his hair was threaded through your fingers snugly and his face was tilted to look attentively at you from in front of your stomach. The steady stream of rumbling from his chest vibrated the palms of your hands in an almost ticklish manner.

Sucking in a deep breath, you watched him blink, his green eyes narrowing in on you the longer you indulged him.

His eyes still looked so dull.

In an almost predatorial way, his mouth parted, sharp teeth faintly showing in the darkness of the room. Next his muscles began to tense in a pounce motion, and the rumbling grew harsher.

It was then you decided to stop this situation from escalating.

Hands flickering to his hood, you pulled it back on with a harsh tug, throwing any pouncing plans he may have had out the window.

Not today.

Standing up, you decided that looking at the surroundings was much more preferable to watching him, heated gaze and lean body all.

The important thing was that his wounds looked as though they could be left alone now. The scabs forming seemed sturdy enough to protect his skin. Which in turn, meant that you could focus more on surroundings then on injuries.

The small office room was messy, papers scattered to and fro. The occasional blood splatter remained, but overall it was in decent condition. No extra dead bodies were there since the last time you observed the room, an added bonus really.

Reaching down for your backpack, you slung it onto your back with little care, before shifting your hands over the chains and slowly and tightly winding it back into its rightful place.

Running a quick hand through your hair, you sighed, sagging your shoulders and brushing past a particularly large pile of papers.

It was so dark, and you were still so tired. In all honesty, you wished to return to your slumber. Close your eyes and only open them when keeping them shut was no longer an option. But alas, survival was about moving forward.

The gentle lull of the hunters chain followed after you as you began to head towards the exit, his claws ticking and sneakers shuffling with a dull plod. Swiftly pulling the door open, you lumbered through it, holding it open for the hunter and letting it shut behind his feet.

This day, you had no destination in mind. The only thing pushing you forward was the dull drive of knowledge that one day you would need more to eat, and thus, your feet kept moving. Never lingering in an area too long, else things turn sour.

Help seemed like something you would want. Scratch that, help was something you needed. Military, government- anything that could give you a sense of direction, or safety.

You vaguely thought of your hunter, before shaking your head bitterly.

He would tear you apart if given the chance.

But would he really?

You didn't really want to have these types of existential questions bothering you, especially when you were doing something as simple as twisting a door nob.

Cracking the door open, you peered into the lobby with a suspicious eye, the front windows canvassing the night's streets perfectly.

No movement.

No sound.

Just the ticking of your fingers against the door, and the cheery jingling of chains.

"Nice." You mumbled, happy it was like that, but still rather bleary from sleep.

The hunter beside you was anything but sleepy. The moment he shook himself and yawned, was the moment he was awake. Always alert to his surroundings, scanning and re-scanning.

Walking over to the counter, you leaned against it, beckoning the hunter over.

Grabbing him by the shoulders, and forcing him to stand up straight, you watched as he stood straight up.

His legs were beginning to look different. More angled, dare I say, animalistic. His shoes were almost bursting, and the duct tape along his legs looked too tight for the way his legs were developing.

It's not a pleasant sight. Disturbing and inhuman like in quality.

Maybe it was the lighting? Or- hopefully it was the lighting that made his shape take on such a predatorial feel.

He was getting taller, you noticed. That had to be what was making you so intimidated. He was taller then his human counterpart now. Easier to separate the two, good.

What really made you think, was why it was him. You weren't sure if all infected were mutating like this, but to see it on him specifically made it all the more impactful. All other hunters you had seen, however few, were so much more human-like then he was.

Pulling yourself from the gaze you had on his legs, your eyes traveled upwards to his chest, faux fabric laden over it in a harness, and clips connecting the chains to it droopy.

Putting your fingers under the harness, you gave a tug, pulling him forward to test how loose it was. Still seemed pretty in tack, but just to be sure, you tightened it anyway, before looking back to the clips.

A few tugs, a check to see if the fabric around the clips was ripping, and you decided he was good to go, patting his shoulder and letting him drop back to the ground, where he thankfully, didn't have the height to make you feel intimidated.

Thankfully.

Rather then make your way out the door, you decided to stay there for a bit. Plan a route instead of blindly running through the streets.

Settling on the floor, you slid your backpack off your shoulder, setting it in front of you. Finding your map was easy, still along the side of the bag. The hard part was to find where you were. After traveling so suddenly, and so sporadically, you weren't sure you knew where actually ended up.

Maybe a landmark would help.

Not that this lighting was helping. It was still so dark out, perhaps an hour away from the first morning sunbeams.

Getting up, you shuffled to the window, gazing out of it to look around the dimly lit city street.

First thing to catch your eyes was the giant building, broad lettering placed aside its top most windows.

'Mercy Hospital.'

That's a landmark for sure.

Far away from you, yes, but something to use to find yourself.

It was a straight path forwards to the towering building. A long stripe of pavement was laid before you, worth several miles, with crashed trucks and stray cars every step of the way.

As much as it was tempting, you would never go there.

Before things fell, everyone went there. Hordes of people hoping to be cured by whatever illness had burdened them, grouped into rooms before turning- Hordes would be in that building, masses of infected people trapped within it's walls.

Going there would be suicide.

"Cheh. Not that anywhere else is much better." Your chagrined scoff made the hunter tilt his head.

Sighing, you looked back to the map, making a rough estimate as to where you were.

Nothing that important was close by. Mainly just work buildings or housing.

The walk back to the market area of buildings was quite a ways away.

Perhaps... a later time. One when it's not so dark.

Letting out a long breath, you dropped yourself to the floor right then and there, pressing your back to the wall. The window above you was eery, but so was the questionably grubby floor, so you had nothing to complain about.

Instead of trying to sleep on your back this time, you dropped onto your side, face looking out and seeing your hunter patiently watching you. Perhaps he's letting you settle first? Being the gentlemen, before tromping over and taking his own spot? A spot he isn't supposed to have, of course.

For good measure, you squinted your eyes at him, knowing he couldn't hear what was going on in your mind, yet doing it anyways.

His nose flared with the deep breathe he took in, lips almost twitching upwards in a small moment of peacefulness.

But then the whirring started. The deep grumbling of an engine, loud, rhythmic, and making a chopping noise.

Louder and louder it got, light shining momentarily through the window above you in a brief flash of an almost blinding glow. The almost angered growl that ripped from the hunter was blocked out by the engine.

The strange sound of a megaphone, something, anything that could've made their voice louder then the chopping and horrendously loud noise of the engine, rung out of the cities brick and dense walls, "For anyone who can hear this," they rushed a quick breath of air, "Proceed to Mercy Hospital for evacuation! I repeat, proceed to Mercy Hospital for evacuation!"

Those words were heaven sent. Packaged neatly, tightly, delicately tied together, and placed directly into your ears for your hearing pleasure.

That was a helicopter. That was a person. That's your way out.

Jolting upwards, you twisted the chain tighter then it ever was before, and headed towards the door, opening it and wandering out into the now quiet street. You watched the aircraft fade into the distance, voice growing quieter, engine growing softer, before it was but a blip in the horizon.

'They're making rounds.' You thought to yourself.

Circling the city, alerting people to the evacuation. All you have to do is make it to the top of that big ol' building. Festering with hordes. And hunters. And probably smokers. And those big muscle tank of an infected.

You could totally do that.

The growling from the hunter finally quieted.

Sniffing with an absentminded thought, you looked to your hunter and let out one of the biggest grins you had on since the apocalypse, and to your utter and total shock, he responded to your joy, however small or minuscule it was.

He seemed to smile back. Softer then a grin, much, much softer. It could barely be called a smile. Just the slightest pull of his facial muscles, before a loud and happy yet still deep rumble resounded from his chest.

"Haha! I know its wishful thinking," you paused, "but you look really... happy."

He just tilted his head, face relaxing back into that blank look he just loves to give.

Looking back into the distance, hoping to spot the helicopter another time, you were shook by finding something that wasn't machine at all.

Once again, from a peaceful atmosphere to a stony air, things soured quickly.

This time not because of noise, but from pure instinct. A gut wrenched feeling settled into your stomach, and the air became tense and unwanted. Something was about to happen.

You glanced to your companion. Claws tense against the ground, body ready to move at any second. He felt it too. You could tell.

Then the gunshots began. The screaming, the clawing, shoes clattering against the ground.

A horde, you'd know that sound. But the gunshots were new.

It was decidedly best if you left hurriedly. And you did so, turning your heel on the commotion and speed walking the best you could in the opposite direction.

You did not want to be apart of whatever that was, other survivors and horde all.

Speed walking couldn't get you away forever though. With the sounds, they were heading in your direction, and you swallowed the sudden increase in saliva the best you could.

The hunter was right next to, slowly making his way out of a crouched position to walk beside you, towering your figure and making a chuffing noise with his breath.

You weren't stopping to see what he wanted. Not now.

So you kept walking down the dusky street, eyes wide with the approaching noise behind you. Louder and louder, the rumbling of the street as you could distinctly make out the roaring of that bubbly mass of muscles you had seen once before.

Great. Horde of un-dead and a tank to lead them. What could be better?

Oh right, the survivors with their deafening guns blazing and the yelling of their strained voices as they ran.

Finally, you could no longer keep your speed walking controlled, and you legs stumbled out into an uneasy sprint. You didn't have your backpack. You didn't have your gun. You left it in the office. You took it off to look at your damn map- that was still inside and left forgotten on the floor.

If you could cry, you would have, but you sucked it up in favor of steadying your uneven gait.

At last, the survivors had seemed to catch up to you, running to your left just a bit behind you.

"Another survivor!" A female voice.

You glanced back, meeting the eyes of a young adult, red jacket abnormally bright and clean for the apocalypse. Your eyes went past her though, and back at the massive creature, who had just decided to lob at car at all of us.

How delightful.

It crashed to the right of you, glass shards flying into your skin as you abruptly cut into an alleyway.

The other group followed, veering away from the car and right after your lead.

The hunter, who had kept pace next to you, growling louder, and much more violently, crouched back upon the ground and just barely nicking your heel with his claws.

"One of those freaks that got Louis!" I gruffer male voice, assumedly by the biker.

"DON'T SHOOT!!" You barely recognized your own voice, so high strung and terrified, "PLEASE DON'T SHOOT"

Don't shoot at him, please.

"Francis!! Don't shoot you might hit the survivor!!" The female's yells were appreciated, yet you knew it was for your safety and not your companions.

"Quick get to the roof!!"

I meer look at the ladder, before a look back at the tank who was gaining on you specifically because of how slow of a runner you were, and you knew you couldn't climb that ladder in time

You kept running, hunter heavily upon you, and tank being distracted as what you could assume was Francis, and an older man began to stand ground and shoot at that beast.

That was the last you saw before you turned corner and continued to sprint down a different alley.

Farther and farther away you drew, before finally you thought you could begin to slow down.

And, quite abruptly, you did.

The tripping on your shoes from your trusted companion ended, before a heavy weight crushed you to the ground, breath leaving your lungs as you face planted into the asphalt and scratched your face along its rough surface.

Like clockwork, one misfortune happened after enough, and pain buried its way into your arm like a hot coil.

The shirt ripped with the pull of a mouth, muscles being torn into before being jerked out with a tearing motion.

Before you could stop it, you let out a hurt cry, shutting your jaw and looking to where you faintly felt the tissue in your arm tearing.

The jingle of a chain as he moved, the claw like weights on both of your forearms and the nose that was pressed into the large bite mark on your arm was all that you needed to see to know who and what had bitten you, forced you to the ground, and all but dominated your sense of pride.

You ran, you shouldn't have, but you did.

Death didn't seem to be a fitting punishment.

Seeing him open his mouth again, bloody and sharp teeth lingering around the first gouge with a deep breathe, you couldn't stop the shaking sob that came from your mouth.

Sad. Desperate. The cracked voice behind it was one that spoke of the faintest of hopes finally being squashed out by a big hand, dying embers flickering their last light.

He was infected. And you should've let go.

Should've put him out his twisted misery.

Several more sobs racked you body, quiet and slow. Accepting the situation you had admittedly put yourself in.

He heaved another breath in, shifting his head from your wound to you neck.

Hot blood dribbled from his chin, softly landing on you neck as he pressed closer with his teeth. A soft snap of his teeth and his jaw closed, and you flinched, expecting another bite.

Instead, you felt his breath, and his hard bloody fangs resting almost gently along your skin.

Goosebumps