Living with the Dead.(twd)

Almost Home. (222)

MADISON'S POV.

TWO DAYS LATER.

I pant harshly as I run. Well, what I can call an attempt at running although my legs give out each time my feet pound against the ground in desperate attempts to escape the herd coming our way. The dog who hasn't left my side since we left speeds slightly ahead of me, occasionally throwing his head back to check on me.

My side kills me as I lift up my filthy, blood stained shirt to check on the bandage over my still healing stab wound. A few stitches has ripped over the past few days and small spots of blood drip through the white bandage.
I groan in pain. Although the wound is only slightly open it only bleeds when we are on the go. We rest as much as we can but not for too long. The fear of the guards finding us rests in my stomach, twisting it and making me sick. I can't go back.

The only weapon I have is a sharpened rock and the dog to protect me. I'm not afraid of the dog anymore, he's been nothing but loyal to me as he kills walkers in my way or licks away the tears on my face as I try to aid my wounds.

I look behind me to find we've lost most of the herd but a few stranglers are left behind. I whistle for the dog and he immediately stops in his tracks and trots back to my side. The moment I stop moving I feel my legs shake before they buckle beneath me and I fall to the ground. I groan as I hold my side. The dog whimpers next to me as he pushes his snout under my chest and heaves in attempt to bring me back to my feet.

"I'm okay, I'm okay." I assure him but he continues to cry.

Stop being a bitch! Get up or you'll get yourself and the dog killed.

Maybe I deserved death but the dog certainly didn't. I almost laugh at myself at how quickly I cared for the dog, but how could I not. He's my only friend and helps me more than some people would.

I sigh and push at the ground to bring myself into a sitting position.
The dogs tongue hangs out to the side as he pants and waits for me to stand. His eyes stay locked to mine and I stare back. It's tongue lolled to the side is one of the only reasons I don't run away in fear of him because it hides those monstrous teeth, pointed and sharp that give the illusion that it's about to pounce and dig its teeth into your flesh. Honestly I'd rather be eaten by a walker than the dog. But at this stage his loyalty has proven that that's far from reality.

I place my arm around the dogs neck and I feel his muscles tense as he lifts his head to give me the boost I need to get back up to my feet.
I sigh in relief and rub between the dogs ears. "Good boy."

The walkers are close now, too close.
"Ready?" I say to the dog, knowing damn well it can't respond but I'd rather seem crazy by talking to the dog than sit in silence and actually turn myself crazy.
The dog leans back on his hind legs, ready to pounce as deep growls escape it's mouth as it's glare is set on the walkers.

The dog bolts first, picking up speed before throwing itself in the air and sinking its teeth into the walkers neck before twisting and snapping the neck and the rotting head falls from the body. The dog lands on the ground in a swift move next to the walkers head and moves onto the next.

I grip the poor excuse of a knife made out of sharpened stone and I move forward grabbing a walker and shoving the knife into its head harshly. The blunt stone needs more force to be shoved inside a skull and as I help take down three more walkers my arms ache and my muscles beg for just a minute to relax. But we can't.

I watch as a walker grabs the dog and shoves it to the ground before climbing on top of it, it's hands ready to rip it apart. The dog whimpers and its cries ring in my ears as I shove a walker out of the way and sprint for the dog, knocking the walker off and pounding the rock into its head. I breathe heavily as I lift myself to my feet and kill the last walker coming up behind us.