Seven ➳ d.dixon's dog

t h i r t y - f o u r

Seven's POV
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Some of them stand there, clinging onto the fenced window that keeps us separated from one another. Others look to be armed with various spear-like weapons. From the looks of their clothes, they're prisoners.

Daryl and I creep forward, him with his crossbow raised while I walk beside him, not letting my eyes leave the five. "Who are you?" One of them asks but they don't receive a response from anybody. This is terrible timing.

"He's bleeding out," Rick informs us, a rasp to his voice. "We gotta go back. Come around here. Put pressure on the knee. Hard, hard! Push, push," I hear Rick continue to give orders from behind me, but I don't dare look back. These guys are threats. Bottom-line. They sure as hell ain't gonna touch my group until we've gotten a good chance to breath.

"Why don't you come on out of there? Slow and steady," Daryl says, his crossbow remaining raised as he instructs them. The first person to walk out of the room is a hispanic man, with a greasy mullet haircut that touches the base of his neck. He looks very alarmed at the whole situation, though I think we all are. But his eyes.. I don't like 'em.

"What happened to him?" The same hispanic man asks as a rather short black man follows him out. He's got a similar look in his eyes. Then after him is another black man who seems taller.. though he doesn't seem as hostile. Just confused.

"He got bit," Daryl says, explaining it simply and shortly. Two more emerge from the room they were in. A short white man with a funny looking mustache, and another black man who is an absolute giant. I can't imagine going up against a walker the size of you. A moment passes in my train of thought. Is that a bad thing to think about?

I'm instantly snapped out of my thoughts when the hispanic man pulls out a revolver, "Bit?" I growl in response and bare my teeth at him, attempting to look as threatening as possible. I can feel my fur has already begone to turn into the fluffy mohawk it does when I do this. I can hear another gun off to my left being clicked, assuming it was T-Dog since that was the last person I saw over there.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy now," Daryl tries to calm the man. The man then raises his gun, pointing at T-Dog, "Ain't nobody needs to get hurt." The man then points his revolver at Daryl, the action alone making me take a step forward to remind him of what will happens should he shoot. Don't. you. fucking. dare.

He looks down at me briefly, a spark of fear is seen in his eyes for a split second. He waves his gun at me when he sees me step forward. Yeah? And if you shoot me, the barrel of your revolver wouldn't even finish spinning before you'd have a bolt through your eye socket.

If he dared to pull the trigger in Daryl's direction, I wouldn't hesitate to sink my teeth into his throat. He'd probably experience a death just a painful or maybe even more so than a walker eating his flesh. I can feel a swirling ball of hate begin to gather in the pits of my stomach just as the mere action of point his gun in the direction of Daryl.

"You have medical supplies?" Glenn asks while passing through us and going to where their room was, not even batting an eyelash at the stand-off or the fact that the man put the barrel of his gun in Glenn's direction as he passed. Daryl was right. You do got balls for a Korean man.

"Whoa! Where do you think you're going?" The giant man asks while Glenn passes him, but he doesn't make an effort to stop the Asian man from getting by. The man's gun was then pointed back at Daryl, making me fixate on him again.