The time Killian spent around the others had been awkward to say the least. He didn't engage in any of their conversation, barely listening to what they were talking about. Not being used to having a conversation with random people he didn't know, Killian wasn't even sure how to join in or contribute. Eventually as he forced himself out of his antisocial turtle shell, Killian just barely managed to snatch the end of a story Tom had been telling. "...And that's how I was bitten by a squirrel in middle school."
Rolling his eyes, Killian had decided to keep to himself after that. The conversations lasted a lot longer than he ever would have liked. To his relief, eventually he managed to excuse himself and check on the deer meat to see if it was done yet. The hearty scent of it wafted through the air, his stomach rumbling loudly. Barely being able to swallow back the watering on his tongue, Killian selfishly considered keeping most of it to himself. He had been the one to bag the deer, and everybody else had already eaten whatever Casimir caught them earlier in the day.
The more Killian thought about it, the more tempting of an idea it became. It all looked absolutely ravishing. Was this how the biters felt when they looked at living flesh? This overwhelming hunger gnawing at his stomach, spittle gathering around his tongue as he stared at it and let its scent take over his mind. Killian barely shook back those tempting, insatiable instincts. If he took any without letting the group know it was all done, they would turn on him once again. That was the last thing he needed, especially when Jasper wasn't there to help him wriggle his way out of trouble.
Clearing his throat Killian rose his voice just loud enough for the group to hear. "Food's ready!" Immediately they lifted their heads, and Killian felt his muscles slowly beginning to coil tighter and tighter the closer they got. Narrowing his brows together he snarled at the first person to arrive--Chris. "Oh no, you aren't going to walk ahead of everybody and steal more than your share. I caught this deer, I'll decide who gets what!"
The other man paused, his eyes widening a small bit. Then, a smile just barely twitched at the corners of his lips. "I suppose I was a bit hasty," He muttered self-consciously, a small flush on his freckled cheeks. Killian nodded with a curt satisfaction; at least Chris admitted to his greed.
One by one, Killian passed out whatever he could. Some people had to share their portion, but Killian made sure his share was larger than theirs. He deserved it, especially when they'd just let themselves forget about him and his need to eat. Either they had forgotten, or Casimir insisted they eat without him. Perhaps this was all a lot of trouble to go through for food, but every good hunter knew that you had to bring back something that would give you twice as much energy as it took to catch it. Otherwise, your hunting would just tire you out, with no real reward. It would be an endless cycle of starving, hunting, then starving again.
Listening to the conversations the others made while eating, Killian stayed that time. He liked the sound of their appreciative mutterings, their laughing as they recalled a few humorous things that he'd missed throughout the day. Although, he couldn't help but feel uneasy as Casimir was still glaring at him. So what if he'd caught a better, more impressive animal than Casimir? It had taken him a lot longer to find it. It wasn't as if he had to still prove himself to the people around him like Killian did.
That was the thought process Killian hated. The need to prove himself to these people who hadn't ever given him much of a reason to want to. Cohen had helped him feel a bit better after drowning, but Jasper had been the one to save him. Aubrey was a good friend, and it seemed as if Dominick would be a good friend as well. Killian couldn't help but think of Harley as anything but a bit creepy. The other man rarely talked, while seeming as if he was always twiddling with some sharp object or other. Chris appeared to be the only one who could keep Harley in check. Wilson was smart, and Samantha just seemed obscenely close to Casimir.
Overall, Killian was aware of the profiles from the other group members. The way they acted, what their personalities were, who was who, and so forth. There seemed to be a strange sort of hierarchy that nobody had mentioned though. Tom, Cohen, Darren and Jasper were the most respected. Then the hunters like Samantha and Casimir. The rest followed pretty standard, and at the very bottom was Killian himself. But there was more to gaining respect among his peers other than being nice, right? Jasper and Tom seemed nice, but that didn't mean they should be respected because of it. They didn't become leaders because they were nice.
Tapping his fingers impatiently on the ground beside him, Killian realized he was possible the slowest eater there. He was lost in his thoughts and observations, so much so that he hadn't realized a lot of the group had gone to bed. The only people left was him, Casimir, Dominick and Tom. Casimir and Tom were talking about when patrols should leave, with Dominick just staring at Killian. Killian shot the other man a glare. He loathed the fact that Dominick's whole communication method revolved around staring. What was he supposed to make of it? Glowering, Killian finished his dinner and left the other three silently.
As he headed back to his room, Killian couldn't help but wonder what Jasper was doing. Was he being a good leader for his small patrol? He knew that Jasper didn't like giving out orders; he was a soldier...or used to be. Following orders for Jasper was easier than giving them. Killian did neither, though. Nobody told him what to do and in turn he didn't try to boss them around. Maybe that's why the others didn't like him, because he didn't follow orders. Or maybe it was something deeper than that. Killian was new to the group, could it just be hazing? Well, what did he care? If the others didn't like him, that was their problem.
Closing the door softly behind him, Killian locked and barricaded it like the rest of the group did at night. It was hard putting the barricades back in place without help. Several times over, Killian almost tripped while trying to push a dresser in front of the door. At one point, one of the drawers fell out and landed on his foot. Fortunately he was wearing shoes, unfortunately it still hurt. Padding back over to his bed, Killian huffed with exhaustion and flopped onto the mattress unceremoniously, shoving his face into the dusty pillow left behind. It wasn't until he was almost asleep that he realized how much he missed the sound of Jasper's steady, strong breaths from across the room.
***
Not a few hours later, Killian stirred awake. The shadow of a biter shuffled around outside the door of the room, clawing at the window. Even with the curtains drawn, it apparently had taken an interest in the room for whatever reason. Had Killian forgotten to bury some of the leftover organs after preparing his kill? He didn't think so. Dominick surely would have mentioned it long before; it wasn't as if a liver laying on the ground was hard to miss either. Scowling, Killian shoved the pillow over his head and tried to shut out whatever sounds the rancid creature was making.
Begrudgingly, Killian slowly began to realize that not only was the biter outside, but he needed to use the bathroom. Unfortunately, plumbing wasn't a luxury anymore. Debating on whether he should get up or not, he finally decided his situation a bit too urgent to wait until morning. Getting up, Killian grabbed one of his hunting knives and his crossbow, then pushed the barrier aside. Pushing open the door, Killian was immediately aware of the biter turning towards him. In the darkness it was hard to see it, but he couldn't hear any other biters.
Stepping carefully around it at first, Killian saw the biter tilting its head to the side. Strangely, it wasn't moving with the same stiffness that the dead usually did. Nor had he ever seen one tilt its head before. Too late he realized that this wasn't a biter at all, but possibly something much worse. The person tackled him to the ground, and shoved his face down. Killian tried to kick at their stomach, but they grabbed his arm and wrenched it painfully behind his back. Noticing their hand in front of him, Killian bit down on their wrist, hard. When a muffled cry of pain hissed through their teeth, Killian bit down until he tasted blood.
The assailant suddenly grabbed Killian's neck, squeezing down. Killian clawed at his attacker's hands, wrapped with an iron grip around his throat. The pressure behind his eyes was sickening, the popping of his ears unbearable as every bit of oxygen was squeezed out of his lungs. Killian thrashed desperately, trying to throw his assailant off of him. The other person straddled him, forcing Killian against the hard concrete. Clenching his teeth, Killian glared upwards at his attacker with a burning hatred. In the darkness, he couldn't see who it was, only the shadow and flicker of their form. The blurring in his vision made it look like nothing but an obscure, distorted shape. The only thing he saw was teeth glinting in the moonlight as a sickening, sadistic smile twisted at the corners of their mouth.
As they shoved his face down, Killian was starting to feel a dizzying panic overtake him. His lungs screamed for air, his body aching. With every last struggle, their grip got tighter and tighter, while he got weaker and weaker. Clenching his teeth, Killian was going to let out a loud cry for help, but their grip was impossible to talk through. He felt hot breath tickling the back of his neck and ear as a voice muttered softly, "You think you're better than everybody else, kid?" There was no discernable features Killian could hear or recognize. As unpleasant memories began to resurface, he thrashed desperately to get away. They held him in place, their weight crushing. "You don't belong here." They spat. A snarl edged in their tone as a throaty growl finally finished, "You never will."
Finally, the weight on top of him disappeared. Killian gasped loudly, coughing. His stomach heaved sickeningly, but he forced himself to swallow back whatever bile threatened to re-surface. He needed every bit of food in his stomach that was there. Killian's arms shook as he propped himself up, his head hanging. He could barely move, couldn't speak, let alone think about what to do. Before he could, the tapping of casual footsteps left him laying there helplessly. They hadn't take anything from him, they hadn't done anything to him...except for attempting to choke him to death. But that hadn't even seemed like their goal. So why had they so viciously given him those ominous words?
Tears threatened to form in the corners of his eyes as Killian heaved for breath, taking in as much oxygen as he possibly could. Sharp hiccups jolted through his chest as he finally managed to sit up and collect himself. With his body shaking, Killian had forgotten why he'd even come outside. Staggering up, the young man began his slow and uneven pace back to his room.
There was nothing Killian felt except for cold, unadulterated terror. Somebody had warned him. Somebody in this group, anybody from the group could have done it. But now, Killian had a feeling that if he didn't leave--the next time they did this, they wouldn't let him go.