Path sat, hugging her knees to her chest, she had a burning, itching desire to see. She felt more helpless than she ever had, as if she were falling, groping for something to latch on to. She was afraid to breath and did so in slow shallow gulps, which she rewarded herself with in small quantities. She tried to open her eyes, but knew they were already starring blankly at the roots winding like fat reptiles through the wet mossy ground...and all she saw was blackness. Empty. Strangling. Blackness...
She didn't want to stay where she was, every second the anxiety grew stronger. She felt if she could just stand up and run, that her fears would lie in an empty shell back where she sat before, but she knew that wasn't so. So she sat in deafening silence, not daring to shift, feeling the wet of the ground creeping up her faded skirt. Eventually she began to relax, allowing her mind to wonder to the clouds, which were red and full above her head, intimidating and angry, glaring down at her, but in her colorful mind they were crispy and silver, dancing through the watery baby blue sky.

A sudden moan snapped her back in to her senses. Her heart galloped in her chest as if throwing itself against the cold wall, trying to break out. The moan came again and she bit her breath back, gripping her knees tightly and sitting rigidly, her eyes shut hard. There was a shriek and the moan cut through the sweaty air once again, but this time it faded into the ground, and instantly Path knew that another human had just been turned. She tensed further as the vereor shifted through the leaves, sensing her body heat. The only thing left to do now was run...

Fritz ran through the forest as fast as he could, counting every step. Only 50 more and he would allow himself a break unless there were anymore signs of life, human or something else. The holstered gun hurt his leg as it bumped into it with every step. He couldn't take it out though. Running with a gun in your hand meant you could drop it and that was the last thing he would want right now. He had made the rule that he would stop for nothing before making the rule that his gun should be holstered while running.

Only twenty more steps. He forced himself to quickly glance over his shoulder again like he had done every 45 steps. There was no movement he could discern with the red light of the sun. Exactly 18 steps after turning his head forward again he stopped and turned around. He unholstered the gun and clicked the safety off but kept the chamber empty and pointed it at the sky. Panting he scanned the environment but there was still nothing. The pause could go on for another two minutes after establishing that the coast was clear. He bend over and spit foul tasting saliva on the ground as he continued to draw as much breath into his lungs as possible. He would have to make it at least another 200 steps before he could slow down.

Suddenly the sound of his breathing was joined by the faint sounds of moans coming from the distance, followed by a sudden shriek. "Scheiße." Fritz muttered like he had done every time he suspected another person had turned. Even his curses were structured.

Without visual confirmation though he could allow himself to finish the break and hopefully catch his breath again before moving on. At exactly the one minute mark he put down his backpack stretched his arms.

Path scrambled to her feet, not pausing to wipe the wet clumps of dirt clinging to her skirt away. The vereor hissed, flattening itself to the ground as it shuffled toward her. She paused for a moment, knowing she should run while she still had the chance, but something kept her from it. It was fear. Cold slimy fear that oozed from her palms in the form of a cold sweat and coated her heart. She didn't want to admit it though, so somewhere in her mind she tried to find an excuse for why she could not move, but all the while the vereor was stalking toward her, it's silver hair trailing through the dirt. Finally, she turned and started to run, but it was a stiff shuffling run, kicking up leaves and tripping over roots. The vereor threw it's head back, a crackling sort of sound gurgling from its throat. There was a scrape of leaves turning over and Path slowed to rigid jog, knowing that she had no chance. But when there was silence she slowed to a stop and swung her head around, wondering if she had only imagined the entire thing. But before she had time to finish the thought she was slammed into the ground, knocking her head again the normally soft wet ground, that suddenly felt as solid as concrete to her. The breath escaped her lungs and her heart when silent in her chest. The vereor's claws tore at her back as it turned her over, pinning her down. She could feel the vereor's thick black pronged claw pierce her shoulders through the black fleece jacket she wore. It lowered it's face toward her's smoothly, as if it had done the same thing a million times. Which Path was sure it had. She was about to get turned into one of them and she knew it. She felt the brush of course hair against her clenched lips as the vereor flicked it's hair back, starring fiercely into her eyes.
She waited expectantly, for some excruciating pain to bite into her pale skin, but instead nothing happened. The vereor grunted and repeated the same routine. Suddenly a thought came to Path's mind. She was blind which meant the vereor couldn't turn her. She couldn't help the dry chuckle that escaped her throat.

But the vereor did not find it amusing. It shrieked into her face and she felt the warm air that reeked of a sickening mixture of rotting wood and blood hit her cheeks. Frustrated, the vereor decided that if it could not turn the girl that it would instead simply kill her...

Nicholas eyed the ruined port city in the distance. From their seaborne vessel, Nicholas and Agapito had listened in horror as their home town in Spain was destroyed by the Vereor. With nothing more than some fish, a camping stove, and half a tank of gas, Nicholas and Agapito had set out on the sea, hopefully beyond the reach of the landbound monsters. Now they were nearing another coastal fishing town further along the coast, toward the southern portion of Europe...from what Nicholas could see through his binoculars, there wasn't any activity that he could see. He saw no white fur or scurrying human, heard no gun shot...all he could hear was the waves around him, and all he could see was an empty city showered in the light of dawn. They were nearly out of fresh water and the fish had stopped coming in in the nets. Nicholas didn't want to stop, but he knew he had to...even if it was dangerous.

Fritz didn't notice it immediately but eventually saw the girl running from one of the creatures. Luckily his break was almost over again so he should be rested enough to continue his way before the Vereor would come for him. The girl was thrown against the ground and would soon be turned. It wasn't the first time he would witness that happening.

"Scheiße." He cursed in his native language as the alien creature forced the girl to look at its face. He turned away and picked up his backpack. After 2 steps an angry shriek pierced the relative silence again. He didn't want to look back for another 43 steps but his curiousity got the better of him and with a nervous stirring in his stomach he glanced back. The hairy creature seemed to be frustrated, preparing to attack the girl. That was new.

Shocked by this unexpected observation he immediately reached for his gun again. He hesitated as a paralyzing tension took hold of his body. What did this mean? Should he continue or did this situation require another response?

When he moved again he aimed the gun and turned the safety off. When in doubt...start killing. Beginning with the aliens.

The two targets were quite far away but the young man had already determined what he as going to do. It wasn't like he was really worried about hitting the girl anyway. He closed one eye and let his index finger touch the trigger. He exhaled and fired.

Agapito perked his ears and stared toward the forest on the right side of the town they were approaching. He growled slightly, knowing not to make too much noise, for fear he might alert the alien predators that were surely somewhere in the town they were approaching.

"What is it, Agapito?" Nicholas said, his smooth Spanish accent coming through as he spoke. "What do you hear?" he asked, kneeling down to put a hand on the dog's back. He had locked the ship's wheel and left the throttle up so their little fishing boat would continue to sail right for the fishing town's many docks.

Unannounced to Nicholas, Agapito had heard a distant series of shrieks, and then a gunshot. He knew there were people alive in the woods. Should he try to lead his master toward them? Should they just stay on the boat? The little dog pondered this as they drew near to the docks.

Nicholas stepped away from his friend, taking the wheel again. As they got within the "No Wake" buoys, Nicholas dropped the boat's throttle down to one of its lowest settings. the boat made as little noise as a purring kitten as it floated toward the docks, most of its movement coming from the inertia that it had built up at a higher speed. With skill and precision, Nicholas guided the boat in at a filling station. He tied it off quietly, then returned to the wheel house to retrieve a two-foot-long lead pipe. He climbed silently from the boat to the dock, beckoning Agapito along with hand motions. Once they were off the boat, he approached the pump station. After a bit of investigating, he discovered it still had power. He took out his multi-tool and removed the front plate from the pump, quickly adjusting the mechanisms so that the pump would operate on a lower setting, pumping slowly, and therefore making less noise. Just as he was removing the cap from teh boat's fuel tank and inserting the nozzle, Agapito let out a little woof.

The dog was standing in the partially-open doorway of a little shop that was positioned next to the filling station. Nicholas took his woof as an all-clear signal, and approached the shop. Agapito retreated inside, leaving Nicholas sure that it was safe. He opened the door slowly, gazing into the dark room beyond. After his eyes adjusted, he realized that it was a shop, and that there had been a bit of a struggle. One of the far windows was busted out, allowing the ocean breeze to waft through to store, giving it a calm and safe feel. Most of the racks full of chips and candy were turned over, and there was a bloody hand print on the glass window of the cooler filled with beer and soda. Nicholas looked around, hoping to find something more nutritious or helpful. He spied a stand full of fresh oranges and a large section of nuts and jerky. With a smile on his face, he moved around the counter and began to look for a box. There was a padlock on the door to the back room, but Nicholas was sure he could remove it. As he examined the far end of the counter, where the clerk would sit, he saw the real prize. Agapito was sitting on the other side of a dried-up pool of what he could only assume had been blood. The little dog was wagging his tail and nudging a rifle with his nose.

"Good boy, Agapito!" Nicholas said in a hushed voice. He walked over and picked up the rifle. Upon further inspection, Nicholas discovered it was a bolt-action .22 caliber magnum with a seven-shot clip. On a shelf nearby there were four more clips, all empty, and two boxes of bullets. The clip in the gun had five rounds left in it, and the chamber had a spent shell still inside. It wasn't a particular powerful weapon, but it might be better than a pipe. Nicholas picked up the gun, which had a scope and a sling attached, and pulled the bolt back. The spent shell flew out. He then reached for the boxes of bullets, investigating them. One of the boxes of bullets was nearly empty, having only twenty rounds left. The other had its full 120 still inside.

Nicholas slung the gun on his shoulder and put the extra clips and bullets in the pockets of his cargo shorts. He would load them later. He looked at the door with the pad lock. Metal pipe still in hand, the Spaniard politely knocked on the door, pausing to see if anything behind it made any noise. After a moment of silence, Nicholas swung his lead pipe at the lock, which turned out to be poorly installed. The padlock didn't break, but the rest of the assembly, the part screwed to the frame, did. Nicholas turned the handle and looked into the back room. Inside, he found the store room completely undisturbed. He examined labels, which were all in German. Nicholas had figured he was in German waters, considering they had headed north and then followed the coast eastward. From what little he knew, he identified the boxes of jerky without opening the packages up. The nuts and other nutritious foods, however, were a bit more difficult. He had to open them up and check them all individually. He then stacked all of the food, even the oranges, on a dolly and wheeled them outside, where Agapito had already made sure the coast was clear. If there were any Vereor nearby, they were leaving the little dog and its master alone. After Nicholas had put the food in their dried-up fish storage compartments, he went back and grabbed all the bottled water he could, along with a little beer for celebration. He also took all the duct tape he could find on the shelves of the shop and tossed it in the wheel house.

After he had loaded up the boat, he checked the fuel tank. The slow fill rate put the tank at about two-fifths full. Nicholas was fine with that. He took some of the duct tape he had stolen and made a little loop to attach to his belt. He hung the lead pipe on it, taking a moment to enjoy his warrior-look. A gun and a sword...or, well, a pipe, rather. Nicholas felt like a conquistador, off to conquer another continent...for, you see, he was planning to make a trip across the Atlantic...a trip to...Canada.

As he exited the wheel house, Nicholas heard a muffled woof. He looked around, trying to find his ally.

When at last Nicholas spied him, Agapito was sitting at the far end of the dock, near the steps that went up toward the town. Nicholas looked worried at first, and then he hardened his features.

"Agapito!" he called out, in as loud a whisper as possible, "Agapito, no! Get over here! We have to go!"

The little dog just wagged his tail and took off up the stairs, as if he were playing a game. Nicholas didn't hesitate a bit as he pulled himself onto the dock and gave chase. Little did he know, Agapito wasn't playing a game...Agapito had a plan, and that plan was to find some extra shipmates.

The vereor leapt off of Path, lowering itself to the ground and shaking it's silver mane so that it fell across its face. Path scrambled to her feet in a desperate effort to escape, kicking dirt up that flew into the vereor's hair tangling itself within the thick pale locks. The vereor let her escape a few steps before launching itself on top of her again. It was playing a game with it's prey. Torturing it before finally slaughtering it.
Path hit the ground again, her chin coming in contact sharply with a thick dirty root. She dug her fingernails into the ground, the wet dirt staining her hands as she tried to claw away from the vereor. The alien monster lifted one of its stumpy hands and slashed Path across the back, ripping open her jacket and leaving a deep gash down her back. She wasn't able to conceal a low wail of agony. The vereor seemed to enjoy this, shaking its head and letting out a whine of amusement. Path took advantage of the vereor being distracted and kicked it hard in the chest. The vereor screamed, startled as Path managed to squirm out from under it.
Now furious, the vereor decided the game was over. The pounced on top of Path once again, driving her into the ground. Flipping her onto her back, the vereor fastened its claws around Path's neck, her windpipe collapsing behind the vereor's strangling grip.
Just as her body had gone limp under the vereor, there was a deafening gunshot and the vereor's grip loosened and it slumped onto the ground, white blood welling from a hole in it's side. Path choked, spitting a mixture of dirt and blood onto the ground and pushing herself shakily to her feet. Her legs wobbled under her and she turned toward the source of the bullet. Unable to see who had even fired the shot, she simply murmured: "Thank you..."

His hand, and by extension the gun, trembled as he aimed for the girl. The creature seemed at the very least incapacitated for now, probably dead. Now he had to decided what to do with the human it had been trying to kill. He carefully approached the stumbling figure.

He noticed there was something wrong with her eyes. She appeared to be blind but he couldn't take any chances. She might be on the verge of turning for all he knew.

"Bitte sehr." He said to announce his presence. Now she knew where he was, he realized.

"You are...okay?" He asked in thickly accented English.

Agapito sped through the urban environment, quickly exiting it by use of a narrow side street. Nicholas followed as fast as he could, eyes darting from side to side, looking for Vereor. He followed Agapito deep into the forest, deeper than he should have. Suddenly, Agapito stopped, peeking out from behind a tree at something the Spaniard could not see. Nicholas stopped right behind him, grabbing him by the skin on the back of the neck and pulling him up off the ground. He turned the dog to face him, his face full of anger. "Agapito," he began, "You don't ever run! It's dangerous! One of those things could be somewhere near here!" he exclaimed, still in a loud whisper. He then heard a gunshot and some people calling out to each other. Nicholas froze. As slowly as possible, he peeked out from behind the tree. There, not a hundred yards away from him, he saw a man with a gun and a girl covered in dirt that looked like she was bleeding. Agapito and Nicholas were off to their respective left and right, with Nicholas peeking from behind a large tree. The Spaniard watched carefully, not sure what the situation was. He couldn't see the dead Vereor from his position, so he wasn't entirely sure about what was going on.

Path was able to locate her savior as his voice rang out across the forest. She nodded in answer to his question, trying to begin to picture him as she always did upon meeting new people.
Behind her, the vereor grunted and coughed, writhing on the soggy ground. She inched nervously away from the wounded creature, fingering the long tear in her jacket behind her.
Blood oozed generously from the wound, sliding down her back and staining her skirt. She slid her fingers across the wound and lifted it toward her face, she felt the warm thick liquid drip onto her neck and grimaced slightly, wiping the remainder of the blood on her side.

"Ach nein." Fritz moaned when he noticed the girl was bleeding. He lowered the gun fractionally. Perhaps he should just let her bleed out on her own. He didn't really have any first-aid supplies with him anyway and wouldn't know what to do with her if she lived. He had decided (what seemed like) a long time ago that he would travel alone until the day that the Vereor finally caught up with him.

Anyway, she wasn't a threat in her current condition. He turned the safety on again, emptied the chamber and holstered the gun. The dying Vereor was slowly quieting down. He never looked at them, even when they were already dead, because he feared it might still turn him.

When he was about to turn around and leave a nervous aching in his stomach reminded him of something. He still had to see if she had anything useful on her but he couldn't do that until she was dead. What to do?

He froze as his thoughts grinded to a halt, unable to make a decision.

Path stood in an awkward silence, feeling the blood cascade down her back. She shivered slightly from the wet that clung to her skirt as the man turned to go.

"No wait!" she cried, surprising even herself. She crept cautiously closer to him, reaching out a timid hand in his direction.

She had begun to feel an attachment to him, after being saved from certain death by him she felt like she could trust him. It had been a long time since she allowed herself to trust anyone, and it felt good. She wasn't about to let the feeling get away, nor the man who brought the feeling on.

"Path, that's my name. Path Mckay." she said softly. Her sandals sinking into the dirt, staining her already browned socks.

Taking her with him until she died and then taking anything useful she might be carrying was kind of the same thing, right? He looked back at the wounded girl. It was quite a pitiful sight and he had the feeling that you were supposed to stay with a dying person. People had expected him to do that with his mother...

"My name is Fritz Durnheym." He said and carefully walked over to her. "How do you feel?"

He looked down on her, hesitated and kneeled down. "What do you think I should do?"

Path smiled as he gave his name. She nodded enthusiastically and mumured his name under her breath a few times, lifting her head when he spoke again, asking her how she felt. Her smile grew duller, but wider at the same time.

"A-alright." she said through her teeth. Her voice was slightly raspy and her blind gaze fell back toward the ground, the smile remaining frozen on her cheeks.

She heard a crunch of leaves after a moment of hesitation that announced Fritz was kneeling down to her level. She lifted her head again, trying to search out through the choking darkness where his face would have been. "What do you think I should do?" he asked. The fake plasticy smile pasted on her face evaperated as he said this. She shrugged her shoulders, the threat of death beginning to work it's way into her heart, but she pushed it away, refusing to believe.

"Don't worry. I won't die, I promise." she said, the smile reappering on her face. However, that was a promise she wasn't sure she could keep...

"Schön. I won't...worry." Fritz said hesitantly. "I eh...I am going to leave the city."

He nervously shifted his weight. This break was taking far too long. He was getting behind on schedule.

"You have somewhere to hide? Something to heal your wounds?"

Nicholas was listening, his heart softened by the blind girl and the other man's kindness. He relaxed his grip on Agapito, petting him a bit as he thought of how wonderful a human being could still be. He nearly sighed, but thought better of it. He wasn't really keen on bringing anyone else with him on his voyage, so he figured he had better stay quiet until the two left.

Agapito, however, had a different plan. As soon as Nicholas relaxed his grip, Agapito was out of it; out of his grip and running toward the two people. The dog let out a muffled "woof!", knowing that it should not be loud, for fear the Vereor might find them. Nicholas tried to stop him, but had failed. Not he stood up, slowly, behind the tree, not sure what his next move might be.

Fritz jumped up at the sudden sound. He silently cursed at his own carelesness as he unholstered the pistol in an automatic and practiced movement. The safety was already off when he took aim.

For a moment time seemed to slow down. He saw a large animal approaching. A dog or a wolf. He had encountered starving animals before and they usually didn't hesitate to attack him. That made them a threat to him.

He exhaled and fired but the dog was moving in a chaotic way which meant he couldn't figure out the pattern and predict where it was going to be. The bullet merely dug into the ground. He exhaled again and aimed for the next shot.

Path's eyes widened almost pleadingly. She didn't want her new companion to go so soon, she was the type who had a hard time letting go of someone when she had begun to trust them. She shook her head, not really in answer to his question, but more in anxiety.
She jumped when a muffled bark flooded into her ear drums, followed by an unsteady gallop as a dog raced toward them. She leapt back, holding her hands out in front of her, clenching her eyes shut, feeling more helpless than ever. All she could do was hope the animal wouldn't attack her.
There was the sound of a gunshot and immediately she was at ease. She slunk cautiously behind Fritz, crouching down, wincing slightly as the gash down her back scrunched up along with her hunched figure. But she felt safe, as long as Fritz was here, she was convinced she would be alright.

((If you don't intervene soon, Nitewatchman, the dog will get it. I'm waiting on you to respond. ;) ))

Nicholas heard the gunshot and immediately was on his feet. He shouldered the rifle, which had a bullet in the chamber already, and rolled around the tree. With his finger on the trigger, Nicholas took aim at the man with the gun, but did not fire. "Drop it!" he shouted, his Spanish accent still there, but lessened by his change in volume.

Agapito stopped, holding completely still, the bullet in the ground beside him. He looked at the man with the gun. His eyes were not those of a rabid animal, but a frightened puppy, unsure of what was happening.

((Thank you.))

'"Wass?" Fritz muttered as he noticed the Spaniard. He looked back at the dog who didn't seem as threatening anymore.

A human and a dog. The human was pointing a gun at him and commanding him to drop his own. He didn't move as the thoughts raced through his head. Eventually he lowered the gun slightly and looked the man in the eyes.

"Who are you?" He demanded with an obvious German accent. Something in the back of his mind reminded him that there was still a girl bleeding to death on the ground in front of him. Perhaps he was willing to take her with him. He already had a dog to worry about...

Nicholas made a clicking noise with his tongue, much like one makes to a horse. Agapito lowered his ears and came back to his side slowly, acting as if he had done bad.

"Not a monster. Holster the gun, and then we'll talk. I'll put mine away, too." the Spaniard replied, beginning to lower his rifle. He glanced at the girl briefly, then back to the German. He wasn't sure what was going on here, but things didn't look too suspicious....though if that man didn't put away his gun, Nicholas just might shoot him.

(( Sorry that took so long. Busy last couple of days. ))

((No problem. We all have those days. I was just worried there was a miscommunication going on or something.))

With a nervous churning in his stomach Fritz lowered the gun a little more and clicked the safety on again. If the man made any sudden movements now he could still turn it off again and respond but he wasn't sure if he should. He had never been in a situation like this before. Previously, he had always left behind the wounded and dying but none of them had ever survived an attempt by the Vereor to turn them. Nobody ever had for as far as he knew. It was all so confusing.

With his gaze focused on the other man's rifle he slowly slid the pistol into it's holster. He left the leather flap which usually covered it unbuttoned so he could reach for it if he had to. That was the reason he made up when he noticed it anyway. Frankly, he had just forgotten to do it.

"Now, we talk." The German said slowly. He glanced at the dog before returning his gaze to the man. "I am Fritz Durnheym. How are you?"

He suddenly became aware of the girl again and looked down. "It is a man with a gun and a dog." He explained to her.

Nicholas slung the rifle on his right shoulder, but he was sure he could draw it again quickly. He doesn't step any closer. "I'm Nicholas. I just pulled into the port of that fishing town...stocking on supplies. What are you two doing out here?" he asks. He had thumbed over his shoulder at the mention of the city, indicating he had come that way.

Nicholas Eyes the bleeding girl, wondering how well she was faring.

Path listened to the conversation between the two men, waiting nervously. She was unsure of the Spaniard and his dog, and so far did not trust him. As Fritz explained the situation, she did not reply for a long moment.

"I know..." she finally said. She didn't want to feel helpless because of her lack of sight, however she had been slightly confused before he had explained, though she didn't want to admit it.

Her knees had begun to feel weak and her face was pale, her heart seemed to throb more desperately in her chest, but she was more focused on the situation at hand than the fact that she was bleeding to death.