The Survivalists

-Chapter 4-

"Tahlia." Soft words came to her ears, and Tahlia looked up slowly from her bowl of soup, blinking slowly at her mother's weary face as she held her eye-lids only half open. She looked towards the door once more. 

They were waiting on Johnathen, her father, to arrive, and she noticed her mother always got nervous around this time. As though her husband would not return home. Though this was always a possibility, Tahlia never thought it was likely. Her father was strong. Stronger than perhaps half this village's men combined. 

"Hm, Mom?" 

Her mother was quiet for a moment, the steam from the soup hitting her beneath the chin softly, though this went unnoticed by the elder woman. 

"The Infected Festival is coming soon.." 

Tahlia bit her cheek harshly, looking down at her soup bowl once more. She disliked this conversation with a fiery passion. 

"It's customary to go with a boy.." Her mother whispered softly as she moved in her seat slightly folding her hands before unfolding them again, bringing a steaming spoon of soup to her mouth. 

"Yes, I know." Tahlia replied quietly with a scornful expression crossing her face momentarily before sighing. 

"Tahlia, I don't understand.." Her mother whispered, letting go of the spoon before looking up, her sunken in eyes boring into her daughters, "The other girls...they are so excited about the festival. They have boyfriends, and their dresses already being made. You..you haven't said anything about it. Ever. Except to question the origin once or twice." 

"Well it seems stupid to celebrate something that ruined lives." Tahlia replied bitterly as her mother presented a glare. 

"We don't celebrate The Infection. We celebrate the life we still have. We show that nothing can bring us down." 

"It's an excuse to get drunk." 

Her mother huffed and folded her arms crossly, "All you care about is..exploring. Life isn't full of choices anymore." 

Tahlia stood quickly, grabbing the brown knitted sweater up and wrapping it around her arms quickly, tying a knot with the loose strands above her chest. 

"Tahlia.." Her mother begun as Tahlia fled out the door, and into the winter's night air. Freezing, biting, deathly frozen. 

She slipped on the first step, landing on her arm into the soft layer of frozen water. She stood quickly, becoming face to face with her confused father whom she ignored as she ran quickly into the night, out the gate of The Village, and into the thick brush of the forest. 

Leaves smacked against her skin, burning her with the icy pricks of their frozen tips. She beat against it, the soft snow flakes still falling from the sky, melting on her warm pale skin. 

She quickened down the snow filled forest just as sound came from the left of her. She turned abruptly, and through her foggy state of mind, had forgotten about The Infected. 

All her life, she'd been different. Different than the other girls. More curious about the world. The world before The Infected that her parent's had lived in. That she had lived in shortly. Only until the age of five though. 

She remembed a good amount of it, and wished that she could go back to that time of happiness. 

She'd been more adventerous as well, braver. Scared, yes, of course, but she was not crippled with the fear. She went into the forest everday with a gun and knife, and got water each and every day for her family. 

She found the world a beautiful place, if The Infected weren't there, that was. 

Now, her unique personality had caused a sudden burst of anger from her mother, and now, her death. She looked down the face of The Infected man. 

She didn't have a gun or a knife, her breath dropped into the winter air and it's eyes widened. 

She ran. 

It ran after her, gaining speed all the time. She quickened, it did as well. 

It was a hopeless battle. 

She zig-zagged through the trees and even though this slowed it down considerably, it still had her trail. She wasn't in the clear by any means yet. He heart pounded in her breath as it let out roars of hunger, arms flailing with dried up and bloody skin beneath it's nails. The mangled flesh inbetween it's rotting teeth smelled of death and crying corpses. 

She closed her eyes for just a moment and felt a pulse of energy shake through her entire being as she sped up and ran faster, faster, faster. 

Breaking out in a sprint at an almost terrifying speed, but it still wasn't good enough. 

A flash of black material caught her eye to the left, and she turned her head. But then it was gone. 

A flash of silver caught her eye from the right. 

A sudden slicing sound rang from behind her and she turned quickly, stopping when she noticed the panting of The Infected man had stopped. She looked on in sudden interest at the cloaked and hooded figure standing before her, triumphantly looming over the dead body of The Infected. 

Had he..saved her life? 

"You..saved me." She whispered carefully, walking closer to the figure, face concealed in the shrowds. 

He said nothing in return as his hands shot back into the confines of his robe, placing the knives in their respective holsters, and slowly begun to walk towards her. 

"I saw some of your people I think. By the beach. They wore white. White cloaks instead of black." 

He replied with silence and the crunching of sticks and snow beneath his boots that she couldn't see, but were hidden by the cloak's shadow. 

"Are you a man? Or a woman?" 

He again, did not reply, and instead, walked straight past, not even giving her a single glance as he retreated back into the woods. But for just a breif moment he stopped and said only two words.

"Go home."