I looked over the rugged horizen, covered in dirt, and blood. The T-shirt I wore was ripped. the left sleeve hanging on by a couple threads. I turned and stared at it, then raised my hand and pulled the sleeve off with ease. Then, feeling I looked somewhat ridiculous, I pulled the other sleeve off, this being not as easy. I sighed, and threw them to the ground, and continued my walk, searching for anything salvageable, my dog walking slowly beside me. The way she moved, I knew she would leave me soon. I held my hand out and pet her, softly on the head, then picked her up, seeing she was obviously having trouble walking. This journey would be a long one.
She was a relatively small pitbull. Green eyes, and brindle fur. She was absolutely beautiful. I had her since she was a puppy, and I was a child. She made me me, and I made her her. We were inseperable. And now, as I walked with her in my arms, a tear began to roll down me cheek. To see her so weak made me feel weak. If she were to die I don't know what I would do. I would be alone. I would die. Would that be bad, though? Everything is in ruin, and living seems pointless.
My arms began to hurt after about a half hour "I have to put you back on the ground, again" I whispered. Slowly I set her back down, and she whimpered slightly. "You can do it." I said, quietly, not fully believing it. I then continued looking, with eyes like a hawk, for food, or water, or anything. I then heard scuffling, and suddenly a knife was pressed by my throat, and a mad was behind me. "Please have food..." He murmured. "I could eat your doggy, right?" He said. He had obviously lost his sanity, as he giggled, slightly. His hands were dirty, and his face was rugged. "You were going to share it right? Right!?" He said, his voice raising. "No!" I screamed, and whispered at the same time "She's mine, but not for food! Don't touch her!" But he was already bringing his hand around her scruff, knife still cold on my throat.
