Our World Is Slowly Dying

Lost

2 MONTHS (ISH) LATER

Dexter crawled out of the tent. Charlie was sitting on a log, warming her hands on the campfire. A few weeks ago it had become Winter and it was as obvious as being hit by a truck. He came and sat down next to her.
"We're out of food, Dexter," Charlie complained.
"Ah, it's not as if you need it!" Dexter laughed and patted her stomach, secretly noticing the emptiness and painfully skinniness of her waist.
"That's not funny. I'm hungry, Dexter I need to eat!"
"As do we all!" Dexter snapped. "You twining is not going to make you any less hungry."
"Well, it'll take my mind off it. And, I need a shower. Or a bath."
"Would you like a chocolate sundae with that?" Dexter laughed and Charlie scowled.
"I'm leaving for a bit," Charlie said; Dexter nodded. Dexter allowed Charlie to go alone, knowing in her pockets and backpack she kept: medicine; nuts; a walkie-talkie; a pistol; several knives and she had been taught second level arm to arm combat.

Charlie ventured around, wanting to either find food, or something to entertain her. She heard many rustles but had began to become used to them, and whether her back was turned or not, she would be able to take the creature on.
She trudged through boring, old, wilted flowers and weeds.
A whine travelled through the wind.
And again.
She turned around. Infected don't whine, right?
Is it a human?
No. It's a wolf. Or a dog. Or some sort of animal.
She took a deep breath. She leaned out, pulled the tangles of the bush to the side and there, whimpering was a pup.
She tensed. She can't feed a dog and herself. She can't heal a dog, she is no vet. But most of all, she can't leave the pup. The dog sat up, not moving its leg. His big eyes widened as it saw what it thought was its saviour.
"Damn," she said, took out a pocket blanket and wrapped it in it, cuddled it and took it back to the camp. She covered its head.
"You beautiful person!" Dexter shouted. "You brought food!"
"Well, erm"
"Pass it here!" He said and snatched it. The lump in a blanket screeched.
"Be careful!" She shouted. Dexter widened his eyes, confused. He unravelled the blanket, and saw the most scarred, broken pup in his own hands.