The picture at the top be what the hunter boi look like. Only imagine a bunch of scratches all over it and gouges under the eyes (too lazy to draw them when the clean face looked decent)

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If you still had any sort of faint grasp on your own emotions, you would still be fighting. Struggling against the swarm of feeling that swayed your dreams.

That nap you just had, long and stiff, was filled with so many painful memories. Ones that you had thought were still in the past.

All throughout them you struggled, watching them, reaching out and feeling your heart breaking with the intense guilt and sadness that riddled each flashing image.

Awaking, from all of the awful things you had just relived, left you out of breath, gasping openly and reaching your arms out for something to claw onto and steady yourself.

Fabric found its way into your stern grip, and your fingers raked the back of the thing that brought you such intense and traumatizing feelings.

The tighter you latched onto him, the tighter your heart clenched.

You bitterly reminded yourself that in your grief, you failed to put him out of his misery.

You failed to continue moving on without him.

So much so that you dragged him along unwillingly through his infected state.

Tears burned your eyes as you continued to nestle yourself into the mess of limbs and clothes beside you.

God be damned. You couldn't stop the fact that you missed your best friend.

Best friend that confessed to you the moment he died. That only confused and frustrated your feelings even more.

Sometimes you wished your psyche wasn't so complicated. Layers upon layers of emotions molding you into the person you are.

That's what made the two of you different.

He was stripped of those same layers, left only with the base instincts that kept him alive and killing.

Still, the warmth of him said otherwise.

He nestled you closer to him, one arm around the small of your back, and the other wrapped around the back of your head. It was a firm cage of muscle and bone, one you couldn't shake off, even if you wanted.

Everything ached in your body. From your head, to your arm, to all the scratches on your legs. The rug burn on your face from being pushed along the ground. Rubble and dirt felt like acid along the cuts, but you didn't care to fix it.

You just wanted to feel safe.

And ironically, you could only seem to feel safe with the one thing that always bites you in the back when things turned sour.

You blinked your tears away, taking in a shuddering breath, before forcing your face into his chest.

He pulled you closer as you did this, clearly unaware of your mental turmoil.

His calm breaths were very different from yours. Long, still, and content with himself.

The more you pulled him into you, the more he reciprocated, curling around you and letting out a loud yet deep trill of a rumble, vibrations shaking your own chest. His chin rested above your head, as close as he could be in everything he did.

When your arms finally retracted from his back, settling back in front of you and in turn his chest, the rumbling stopped. His angled head tilted to look at you, eyes peering with a searching look.

Did he want you to wrap your arms around him?

Did he want you to embrace him?

With a clack of his teeth, he curved his spin toward you, pressing his maw into the crook of your neck.

A heavy chuffing breath left his mouth, pleased with whatever it is that goes through his mind.

That moment, however long, or short, ended when you felt him scrape his teeth along the soft skin that lay there.

You jolted, fear immediately rushing you and reminding you of what he did to your arm.

Blood, dripping.

Teeth piercing.

Savage snarls that curled into a monster's image.

You reeled, pulling your arms back and smashing them into his face.

He tensed as you did this, retreating his head back with the force, but hesitating to release you.

You said nothing, just the fear of his teeth and the sensations that came with the dragging motion driving you.

He, after careful thought and consideration, released you. The loud click of his jaw was one of understanding and annoyance, and the claw that rose to rub his sore jaw played into that emotion even more.

Emotions.

God, you really were starting to loose it.

You had to stop... projecting- these things onto him.

Putting emotion where emotion wasn't rightly there.

Sighing, you still lay flat on the ground, feeling the ache from your body refuse to let you stand.

The helicopter parent that your hunter was currently acting like wasn't helping you either.

He crouched next to you, analyzing your every movement with an intelligent eye.

Clenching your teeth, you attempted to sit up, muscles straining to work. A hand behind you gave you the last bit of force you needed, and you merely glanced at the hunter, steady claws finding purchase along your hip.

A squeeze, a release, and he took a step away from you, respecting your boundaries.

Huffing, you made another movement to stand.

Every muscle groaned, scratching against one another to find energy to push.

Push you did, until a sudden stabbing sensation pulled in your thigh. On reflex, you reached for the pain, almost collapsing if it wasn't for yet another hand.

He stood, at his full height beside you. One arm wrapped securely around your body, pulling you snugly into his side.

Tap.. tap ....... tap.

The off beat twitching of his claws against your hip sent goosebumps trailing through your skin.

If you could, you would move away from him. The furnace that was his body sucked you into the sensation of just... being... with someone.

The comfort- the swaying tower of warmth.

The reassurance that all you had to do was reach, and help would find its way.

The pure and maddening feeling of being enveloped by someone else when you were down on luck.

But something was different.

Something was burning you.

And you did not. Like it.

Shoving away from him, in all his safety and warmth, you stumbled, clutching your cramping thigh before tumbling forward.

The grip around your forearm prevented you from falling.

The grip, tight and foreboding, slowly pulled you back.

Back against his side.

Closer, yet not as close as before.

Just enough to comfortably support you.

He was beginning to accept boundaries.

Groaning at your own helplessness, you looked up at your captor. His disapproving frown was noticeable, and his eyes constantly flickered across you. From your head, to eyes. Lingering on mouth, and neck, and all the scratches littering your body.

He settled firmly on looking at your treated bite mark. His bite mark, in a sense.

Him being ruffled by that fact was an understatement. Anytime you winced because of it, he winced too.

After much thought, and awkward standing, he made a move to lower back to the ground, but you smacked his chest with your hand before he could get far.

"Uuum- no. We need to get to Mercy Hospital."

He paused, outright rolled his eyes, before standing back up, dragging you along with him.

You swore it was a hallucination. The eye roll thing. But it lingered longer in your mind then you would have liked.

With everything in order, and a piece of your mind still grasping the bits of sarcasm you see in him, your small group of two begins to head out.

Slow, steady, and most definitely not reminiscing about how nice it is to lean on someone.

Frequently, you had to give him pointers, directions on to where to go.

Going down the stairs inside of the building was an utter struggle, and for the last flight of steps, your hunter all but lifted you off the ground as he speed walked down.

Encountering any infected was in a way, worse. They'd get so close to you, before his claws would reach them, and even then, it took a bit to one handedly wretch his claws out of them.

You supposed it could have been worse. He could have killed you by now. Could've ignored your direction. Or could've used his smarts to break the chain and leave you.

You were relieved when your cramping leg finally ceased being a nuisance, and things could return to normal.

When his arm released you, and you could stand on your own, the walk became ten times easier to handle for your brain. No comforting figure pressed into you, and no dangerously close encounters with the commons.

Just the calmness that came with walking around on your lonesome.

Despite that, your hunter frequently switched between crouching and standing, always hovering close by as if to be a fail safe should you fall again.

Towards Mercy Hospital. That's where you needed to go.

And you pressed onward.

Not for very long though.

Scribbled on a wall was a safe house icon, and an arrow, and you thanked the people that were kind enough to put them up.

You were weaponless, and safe houses had supplies abundant left behind for straggling survivors.

Bonus mission.

Hit the safe house first- then Mercy Hospital.

So, you trudged in that direction. Weaponless, but ready to charge forward.

As long as you played your cards right, and kept quiet, you could make it without any hordes grouping up.

With the hunter beside you, chain jingling, you felt semi-confident you could do this. Still pretty scared shitless, but semi confident.

And what could you say?

You did make it.

Your stealthing worked for once and you followed the trail of safe house icons in relative ease.

Now, walking toward the red metal door of a safe room after treading through streets and the steps of a subway entrance, you felt pretty confident you could recover from the incident prior to this.

"Guess who's gonna get a gun again." You smirked, genuinely feeling happy.

The hunter looked to you and chuffed.

"Daz right. This person right here."

God, you did feel happy.

Things going your way just felt nice for once.

Gripping the door handle with your unbitten hand, and in turn the chained hand, you pushed, cracking the door open and nonchalantly strutting inside.

Badly beaten up.

Without a gun.

And only a hunter.

Oo wee.

You did not expect to see four survivors, guns clicking to the ready as you confidently walked your way in.

From happy, to terrified. Your mood went down the drain.

"Hold fire!" The female shouted, red jacket ruffling as she lowered her gun. She looked to her companions giddily, "See! I told you if we waited she would've turned up!"

They all lowered their guns, and the old grumpy looking man sniffed before taking a drag of his cigarette, "Damn lucky guess, that's what that was."

Surely stock frozen in place, there was something you were missing.

One small factor that could change this entire situation.

Right you were.

One of the loudest snarls you'd ever heard from your hunter shook your ears. And when you glanced behind you, to see him edging his way out from behind you, teeth bared and heavily clenching down on each other, you knew action had to be taken.

"DON'T SHOOT!" Your yell was as frantic and as desperate as it was the day before, chased down by a horde and a tank, fighting for your life.

But it wasn't your life on the line, it was his, and you grabbed the chain of his harness as he flung himself at the other survivors.

You just managed to hold him back, slamming into his hard back face first as his strength pulled you over.

You could feel his muscles retracting and heaving with each wrath filled breathe. Snarls, uttered through his lungs, were filling the room with his very bloody intent.

His spine was hunched and just as tense as his muscles, jutting out as he angled himself defensively toward the ground.

Everything about the way he was acting told of a defensive stance. But the survivors couldn't see it.

They saw a hunter, perched and ready to kill.