Furzombie - a gay furry zombie apocalypse

its good to talk - Joshua

I felt lighter after opening to Sam. Sharing what I'd been holding inside for so long, the things I'd done to survive, felt like releasing steam from a pressurized valve. He listened without judgment, and in return, his story made me realize I wasn't alone in my regrets. Sam had been through hell too, and yet here he was—alive, resilient, and somehow still hopeful.

I envied him for that hope.

"I don't know if I would've coped the way you have," I admitted, glancing over at him as we walked. "I mean, I still have this... stupid hope that my mum is alive somewhere. Maybe she's at the sanctuary. I don't know if I could handle losing her."

Sam didn't say anything right away, but his presence was reassuring. Finally, he nodded. "Hope isn't stupid, Josh. It's what keeps us moving. Don't let go of that."

We climbed to the top of the hill, and Sam gestured down toward the land below us. "That's my house," he said, pointing to a small, weathered farmhouse nestled in the valley.

I followed his gaze, smiling despite myself. "The view from up here is incredible. You can see for miles—fields, stone walls, the village where we met..." My eyes scanned further, past the rolling hills and jagged treetops, until I spotted it in the distance: a stark, gleaming structure.

Off in the horizon stood a large building with towering white walls and a massive dome over the top. It looked out of place amidst the surrounding countryside, but it was unmistakable.

"That's the sanctuary," Sam explained. "They built it as a bird sanctuary at first, but then they added a hotel and that crazy western-themed town for kids. It was a tourist trap, but people loved it. My sister especially. We used to go there every summer. She'd beg me to buy her something from the gift shop every time—stupid overpriced pencils or those cheap plastic snow globes." His voice softened, and I could tell he was lost in the memory.

"They must've made a killing charging ten quid for a pencil," I said, trying to keep it light.

"They did," Sam said with a faint smile. "But it was worth it. Seeing her smile..." He trailed off, his expression wistful.

I glanced back toward the sanctuary, squinting against the morning light. "I hope my mum's there," I said quietly, almost to myself.

Sam looked at me, his voice steady. "I hope so too, Josh. It's about time we both got some good fortune."

He reached for my bow and gestured toward the edge of the tree line. "Come on. Let me teach you how to shoot this thing. If we're lucky, we might even find a rabbit or two for dinner. But first, we'll start with the basics."

I grabbed the bow awkwardly, fumbling with an arrow as Sam burst out laughing. "You've never held a bow before, have you?"

"Is it that obvious?" I grinned sheepishly.

"Painfully, I mean back in the co-op I thought maybe you knew what you were doing but now..." Sam stepped behind me, and I felt the warmth of his presence as he leaned in, his breath brushing against my ear. "Here," he said, his voice low and steady.

He nudged my feet apart with his own, positioning me into a better stance. His paws rested on my sides, gently twisting my torso to align with the bow. His touch lingered just a second too long, sending a shiver down my spine. Then he reached for my elbow, lifting it to the right height and guiding the bow to align with my sightline.

"Now," he said, his tone firm but patient, "focus. Breathe. Draw the bow back and hold it steady. Aim for that sapling over there." He pointed to a thin, spindly tree in the distance.