She’s going to hurt herself if she keeps that up.

She begins dropping the rock again and you step forward, seizing her arm.

“Stop it,” you warn. “You’re going to–”

She widens her eyes at you; as if she just noticed your presence and screams, dropping the rock with a hard thud onto the ground. Desperately, she wrenches her wrist from your grip and begins scrambling back until she’s leant against one of the many rusted-over cars.

“Stop!” she yells. “Get away from me!”

You hesitate and drop your arm. She has her eyes locked on you, eyes red and filled with furious tears; arms wrapped around her torso and legs drawn close.

You sigh and turn away from her. Not like you could blame the girl for that reaction with what just happened. Instead, you crouch down and look at the lead bandit’s belongings. You lift his hand and inspect the pistol with a frown. Chunky. Powerful, but too high a caliber. Too noisy.

Dropping the gun, you turn and make your way to the other bandits. Davis has a tactical knife on him - aged, but free of rust. Useful. You pocket it and head to Marcus’s corpse. He has nothing on him, but you can see a few goodies in his open trunk. The rope he was going to use on the girl - distasteful, but you grab it anyway. A compact tank of fuel, half empty - nice, but not feasible to carry. You look a bit more, not finding anything too good…

Your hands stop and your eyes widen. Beneath a black rag, the sunlight catches a small arsenal. Most of them are big, silly hand-cannons, too flashy and loud for the wilds, but one catches your eye as you pull it free. A beautiful, compact, barely used M4 Carbine.

You lift the rifle gingerly and hold it up, pressing the stock to your shoulder which fits snugly. You look a little further and find more magazines for the gun, and you can’t help but smile under the scarf.

You put your old gun into the trunk and hesitate. The old thing looks pathetic in there, cracked and covered in too much duct tape - but it’s been a reliable friend for the last year. It hardly ever jammed and you’ve protected yourself from cavemen teeth with its thick stock more than a few times.

You place a hand on the old gun gingerly and sigh, looking at it one more time before stepping back and slamming the trunk shut.

You search the other bike and car and find a few useful bits and bobs - some handgun bullets and a few more bottles of water. Good haul. You just wish it hadn’t taken four dead bodies to get it.

Packed and readied, you secure your bag on your back and your new gun over your shoulder. You take a look at the girl, who is still sitting in her crouched position in the shade of the car. You hesitate, and gingerly take a few steps towards her.

She sees you coming and immediately pulls herself in, staring at you from behind long, dark hair. You put your hands up in a placating manner and slowly pull a couple of bottles of water from your back; placing them slowly on the ground between yourselves; making her frown through the tears.

“...The sun goes down in a few hours,” you explain slowly. “You don’t wanna be out in the open when that happens.” You point at the bottles. “I’d conserve that if I were you. Get into one of these buildings; make sure it’s empty and stay the night. Once daylight hits you should be able to move again.”

Her eyes widen and you quickly stand, turn and begin walking back the way you came.

“Wait,” a voice calls out. “W-wait!”

Shit. You stop and turn slowly to see the girl standing in front of the bottles, arms still crossed tightly over her chest.

“Please,” she says faintly. “You… you can’t just leave me here.”

Fuck. Fuuuuuuuuck.

“I’m not prepped for two,” you explain.

“I… I can carry my own weight,” she says, a little more confidently.

You look at her skeptically beneath your goggles. “You look like you can barely walk.”

“I can walk!” she exclaims, throwing her arms down to her sides, and a breeze washes over her tattered shirt, further exposing her olive skin. Immediately she reddens and covers herself with her arms again.

Thoughts bounce in your head. You look at the van, tilt your head at the way it’s crashed. “You were coming from deeper in the city,” you say. “I’m not going that way.”

“We were coming back!” she exclaims. “And then those… those _assholes _ran us down. We were leaving the city! Going back to our camp!”

“I’m not heading to any camp.”

“Where are you going?”

“...Trafalgar.”

“My camp is on the way!” she cries. “You’ll go right past it!”

You hesitate, fingers curling, finally looking at the girl properly. She’s short; with dark, wavy hair that flows over her shoulders. She’s pretty, despite her busted lip, with soft, youthful features. And despite her vain attempts with her arms, you could see she had a nice figure - not strong, but fit enough.

Quit it, you think to yourself annoyedly.

“Please,” she continues. “You… I’ll die out here alone, you know that. You went through all that to save me and… please.”

Your thoughts churn as you look at her soft, almost elven face, sun blazing down on you both.