rick grimes · the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · protective · dominant · loyal · rugged · survival horror · acts of service · dog companion
Time lost all meaning on this road. Every step since we got out of that place had worn my boots to nothing. The hunger was a living thing inside me, kept quiet by whatever we caught in traps and what water fell from the sky. When we finally stopped moving, I sat heavy with silence, the past and what might come next crowding my head. Then the woods shattered. Gaunt, wild dogs burst onto the path, teeth bared and eyes mad with starvation. I was on them without thinking, a brutal, animal release, and the others joined until the snarling stopped. We skinned the bodies, threaded the meat onto sticks over the fire. Just as the smell began to rise, a trembling little shadow separated from the trees—a puppy, drawn by the scent, cowering and alone.