❝You can breathe. You can blink. You can cry. Hell, you'll all be doing that.❞
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The End started, walkers overran the world, and you stumbled upon the scourge of the new society; an alpha, a leader, and a monster.
In that single momen...
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Once the echoes of battle subsided and the thirst for blood faded into the dust, the monster turned his golden eye your way and stopped his pacing. He inhaled a sharp breath, one full of the irony tang of the dead and the acrid stench of the smoke, and he bent low, a dangerous gleam in his eye as he tapped the tainted end of his bat on the ground beneath you.
"Where is he?" He asked, his voice deathly low, "Where has that bastard gone?"
With dizzied eyes, you stood from your kneeling position and went in front of your alpha, disregarding the throbbing pain in your phantom fingers as you looked him dead in the eye. Without hesitation, you uttered, "He's gone."
Kid grabbed your jaw, lightly, but not lacking his usual intimidation, "What do you mean 'gone'? Where did he go, drengr ?"
"I promised you I would convince him to leave, and that's exactly what I did. You cannot get angry for something you wanted."
A throaty chuckle peeled from the alpha's lips before a grin rose to his face; all teeth and blood, "You must have quite the balls of steel to have the nerve to say that to me. But I would advise against saying anything more stupid while you have the chance."
His hand ventured lower to where dots of coagulated blood and dirt marred your cheek, and he rubbed it away with his own bloodied finger, "Do I not scare you, whelp? "
In response to his question, you silently glared at him, letting it be known that your anger outweighed your fear of the moment, and Kid grinned. Rather than punish you for your impudence, he lightly patted your cheek and leaned in, his lips centimeters from yours, and he wetted his lips, whispering, "He best hope he's miles from here, because if I so much as catch a whiff of him, I'll string him up by his balls and force-feed his entrails to the ravens. Am I clear?"
You nodded.
Then with a dismissive hand, he dropped his hold of you and angrily stalked to the factory, shouting back to his right hand, "Killer, patch her up. Make sure you bind her fingers tight enough to stave off the infection."
Then he was gone.
•···············․° ☣ °․···············•
Killer knelt by your side and placed his scythes on the ground before gently lifting your left hand to the light, examining the extent of the injuries as he drew his weathered fingers over your knuckles, producing a pained hiss from you at his ministrations.
It wasn't terribly bad. And it certainly didn't span over the rest of your hand. You still retained mobility of the fingers that were left, but you would never again wield a weapon as you once had, and certain functions were now obsolete.
