A large rumbling could be heard in the distant street, huffing and puffing growing closer to the building you were in.

The image of distorted muscles and protruding veins came back and you knew what it was. That tank of an infected that was blocking your way the day before. Of course it would still be in the area, why wouldn't it be?

Stilling your breath, you dropped down to the floor as quietly as you could.

The chain loosened as the hunter came closer to you, acknowledging the fact that you now knew the dangers of what is tromping down the street.

Wriggling your way over to the shelves, you hid your body from window viewing, still pressed closely to the floor.

The hunter crawled with you, stopping next to you.

He looked anything but hesitant, placing a certain claw on your shoulder.

You swatted him when he did so, and in reply, he clicked his teeth together with a frown. Ignoring your swat, he placed a hand on the other side of your torso, effectively hovering over you.

You clenched your teeth in your own frown, grabbing his arm and attempting to move him off of you with an almost violent pull.

He was firm in his resolve though, frowning as you tried to move him.

You didn't like this. Not with the way he looked at you.

Your own weakness and vulnerability left you exposed far too wide then you would have liked, so you struggled.

He in return dropped his body closer, resting on his elbows as he stared at you. His heat brushed your body in warmth, an almost boiling feeling bubbling up inside of you.

With a snarl, you began to pull yourself away, to move your arms in some form of defiance.

He rested his ear on your chest, listening to your heart beat. It was sporadic, for the most part, fear being a main influence. The rumble he let out shook you, vibrations from his chest traveling into your own.

This growl was the most quiet one you had ever heard come from him. Gentle and soothing, and primarily consisting of pure vibrations. What noise did escape him sounded as though a low hum.

However fear based and nerve wracking it should have been for the lethal body of a poised killer pressed so close to you, nailing you to the floor in a vague yet small promise of protection, it wasn't. It should have been terrifying. Should have been scarier then it actually was.

You felt scared, yes, indubitably so, but the comfort you found in simple touch alone was much more overpowering than any other emotion.

You felt like a baby in short terms, overwhelming fear and comfort.

You writhed beneath him, shoving, pushing, anything to get him off you. His heavy and sleek body made for a good paper weight, only flinching moderately as you tried to shake him off.

He pushed his nose along your neck, and you could only meekly take a claustrophobic and sharp intake of air. Your hands slammed against his face, pushing the bridge of his nose away from you. He pushed back, breath just barely ghosting your skin.

Your vulnerability all but made him that much more intimidating. His stare, barely visible beneath his hood, was hard pressed and shadowed, to the extent that you weren't sure if he wanted to kill you more then the hulking being outside.

Dark eyes spelled out a bad omen, you decided.

The rumbling drew closer from outside, strangled panting and huffing coming from the oversized behemoth.

You could picture the infected's horrific body.

All struggling stopped the moment it stood by your building. You drew still. Your hunter drew silent. The snorting huff remained.

And it passed. Your sigh of relief was quiet, and the hands that had grabbed onto the hunters arms in struggle released themselves, the indents of where they had been still left on his hoodie's sleeves.

You huffed, glowering from below him, before giving him a final shove, to which he finally conceded, backing off of your body almost reluctantly.

You sat up, red busying itself on your cheeks out of the sheer proximity you had shared with him. God, you wanted to choke him. Something to show you didn't agree with what he did.

Your skin still felt his breath, his touch. The nerves beneath them tingled with the sensation, dare I say it, basked in it.

Remaining impassive, despite the urge to yell, you stood. Making your way towards the window, you peered out of it, looking to see if the huge infected was gone. He had thankfully already turned onto a different street.

Without a second thought, you made your way out, treading in the opposite direction of the huffing and puffing.

Once you were far enough away, you regained your slower pace of meander.

The day was still overcast, clouds blistering the usual blue and casting a shadow on the city.

You were sure it would rain.

Every footstep was another second, another minute was another sigh, the swirling mass of air and water above you sent a warning chill breathlessly scuttling down your spine.

The time droned on as you walked, an ever present buzz, as silent and still as it was since birth. To where you were walking, you did not know. But in a vague sense, someplace different from here.

The night would be cold, you could feel the temperatures sinking into your bones.

It wasn't until the first platter of rain touched your nose that you knew you needed shelter. You had looked into the distance, spotting an office building, alongside a postal office. Office buildings were huge, and with space comes infected, so you made the proper choice of the postal bank.

The rain picked up quicker then expected though, the pellets reaching you much faster than you could walk your way there.

Speed walking was the best you could do, trudging through it even with the wind blowing the heat off of you. Your short sleeve shirt did nothing to keep the cold from settling into your skin.

With a huff, and puff, and a ram of your shoulder, the doors to the postal bank slammed open, infected immediately zoning in on your human form.

The claws that flew through them didn't faze you this time. You marched forward with a clear focus, blood falling around you as you brushed past the chaos.

Your wrist twisted, pulling the chain tighter, closer. He couldn't leave you.

He was next to you again, yet you kept walking. Back, farther and farther into the room. A door was in front of you, and just as the last, you simply shoved it open.

Pausing, you took in a deep breath. The hunter was beside you. The chain was beside you. All was fine.

You closed the door.

All was fine.

Wet, yet fine.

Something still felt off though.

Scared, was it? You couldn't have been. You didn't feel as if.

Walking down that street felt like a minor inconvenience, yet when it first started it was a life or death option that many were forced to take.

So many things that were, just weren't anymore.

Scared? Why would you be with the set of claws beside you so eager to tear something apart.

Frightened? Why would you be when the set of fangs beside you only dared to bite you when they needed fed.

This past course of days were strange and so, so, very difficult for you to wrap your head around.

The sudden clinginess, the snarling, the variance in his moods and expressions.

Just a week ago, the moment he had the chance, however slight and small it was, he would have torn you to bits the way he had done to Ted.

The still healing marks from when he did manage to pin you, tear at you with his claws, ached at the thought.

The feral way he acted then, lips always drawn with a deep set snarl and growl, was nothing compared to now.

He didn't eat all that much the first week either. Simply growled and snarled at you and the few people of your group you still had left.

Throwing your hands into your hair, you walked yourself into a corner and hard pressed your head to the wall.

A week ago, turning your back like this spelled death.

God! Everything a week ago was flipped onto its side.

Slowly, albeit, but never as suddenly as it was after Ted showed up.

The only thing you noticed during the slow growth was that he almost understood the concept of a leash, barely grasped that your shooing motions meant that he best back up before he gets whacked with the but of your gun, and that dropping the gun means to kill.

The sudden progression gave you whiplash.

He walked calmly, rather then tugging wrathfully at the end of the chain, followed you like a guidance dog would, repeatedly displayed emotions, and consistently found ways to wiggle inches closer to you, even if by 'wiggle' it meant to pin you to the ground and stare into your soul.

Even now, with his maw pressed into your leg, mouth closed, and blank face staring, he resembled more of a dog then that of a crazed infected.

He lowly rumbled as you side glanced to him, and all at once you felt cold from the rain.

His clothes were soaked as well, water limply dripping onto the tiled ground.

You bet he was cold too.

Sighing and dropping down to his level with a swivel and bend of your knees, you pressed a hand to the top of his hooded head.

Definitely wet.

Not like you could change out of clothes like this in an apocalypse.

It raised an important question in your mind.

Could infected get sick?

You didn't want to take chances.

Reaching into his backpack, you heaved to pull out the tightly packed tarp. Unfolding it with a few shakes, you threw it around him, pulling it taunt once you had the other side in your grip.

It wasn't much, but you hoped it did something to help.

Nestling into the corner as much as you could, you wrapped your wet arms around your legs and simply listened to the steady beat of rain.

The hunter seemed confused as to why you wrapped the tarp around him, tilting his head at you before glancing to the tarp. He chuffed, before giving a shake to his body and letting the tarp fall off.

Mmmm...

No.

You weren't pleased with this.

Stretching out a hand, you pulled the tarp back up, pulling the two corners around his shoulder and together once again. To make a point with a newer found knowledge that clicking teeth showed annoyance, you snapped your mouth together to make a click, thinning your lips.

His own lips thinned at seeing you do this, and he proceeded to shake it off.

Repeating the process, you snapped your teeth at him again, this time he retrained himself, clicking his own teeth and turning his head to look at the desk a few feet away.

Satisfied, you went back to leaning your head against the wall.

If the hunter's new personality was as passive as this, you didn't really mind having him act like a clingy two year old.

One last sigh.

You hoped the rain would pass.

____________________

All right, so this chapters a bit shorter then usual. That's because most of this is just the reader assessing all of the things that have happened, and settling her mind in a happy medium.

As I can't really personally put your personalities into this, I made the reader more of a middle type of person. Calmer, less fight induced, but if she does have anything out of the middle, its an extreme. sooo, yeah. Extreme's, but with a calmer personality underlining things.

She needed a day to process everything and re calm herself, lol.