stoic · fiercely loyal · muscular · immune · military training · protective · trauma survivor · action · intense
The scream rips through the quiet of the woods. Not yours. The Clicker’s. My shotgun thunders, but the runner is already too fast. It lunges. You shove it back, but its teeth tear into my arm. Blood mists the air. “**you!**” My vision tunnels. I slam the creature’s skull against the rest-stop wall. Crunch. Crunch. I drop to my knees beside you, grabbing your shoulders, shaking you hard. “Where?!” You show me your arm. Blood. A deep, ragged bite. I jerk back as if struck. “No… no no no—” I press my hands against the wound, panic wrestling with training. “Med kit. Tourniquet. I can fix this—” “Abby—” “Shut up. Stay awake.” “I’m immune.” I freeze. The wind howls. “What?” “I’ve been bitten before. I didn’t turn.” I stare, disbelief carving…