T E D D Y

Okay, first of all, I wasn't 'baring my teeth'. It's called smiling (I'm sure you've heard of it). And to make sure I was as non-threatening as possible, I made finger guns. Which, in hindsight, isn't as non-threatening as it seemed in my mind, now that I think about it.

Bark exploded from the tree behind my head. I ducked into the trees, cursing as flying wood splinters peppered my side.

That's what I get for trying to greet someone politely. You know, like a normal person.

"Rude!" I shouted over my shoulder.

An answering gunshot cracked through the trees.

Whatever, woman. I had bigger problems at the moment. If an outbreak happened here, this deep in NODE territory, the entire area would get nuked. And with Holly's shrine so close...

"Ah, well." I let out a rattling sigh, cocking my new shotgun. "Let slip the dogs of war, then."

I'd lost sight of the Walker pack remnants. If they'd been adults it would have been easier, since adults usually traveled in a solid group. But child Walkers left unattended were solitary and more apt to spread out.

My rough fingers caressed the gleaming barrel, my finger teasing the trigger. I sniffed the air, swiveling my gun one way, then the other. The scent was faint, a whisper riding the wind. They were on the move.

Did the noise scare them off? The little ones were usually warier. Unlike the usual mobbing technique used by adults, prepubescent Infected are prone to prowling. Like mountain lions but with sticky hands and polar bear pajamas.

The hair rose on the back of my neck. My mouth watered, and I clapped my hand over it to muffle a growl.

I smelled blood.

My belly twinged and gurgled. My mouth filled with saliva. I swallowed hard.

My steps floated quietly over the ground, my muscles tensed. Caution prickled my skin, stilling my breath.

I entered a clearing strewn with feathers. Damp bones glistened against bloodied down. The bird's craggy legs clawed the air, frozen, its head lolling on a limp neck. The air was heavy with the stink of Infection (and blood, and hunger — the Walkers' and my own).

I kicked the carcass over with my food — foot! I meant foot!

The bird was mostly intact. Unfortunately. (Waste of food.)

"So they didn't like the taste," I said, grimacing. "Picky brats."

I clicked the magazine out, checking how many rounds I had left. I mentally kicked myself — I hadn't thought of patting Iron Girl down for more ammunition. I suppose I could have bartered for rounds when I went to the Market a few days ago. But no one had anything for a military assault rifle, so I left empty-handed.

I hadn't guessed I'd find another firearm in my hands so soon after I put one down.

"Thirteen." I slapped the magazine back in. "It'll have to do."

The trails thickened the farther I walked (not walked as in Walked walked, but... well, you get the idea). When I broke through the tree line and stepped onto the road, the trails merged into one. They were all going in the same direction — westward, towards the Market.

"Well," I said, frowning. "Shit."