Snippet #1975377

Yashie closed his eyes and leaned backwards, resting against a huge piece of a broken wall. He knew the woman was thirsty, it was quite evident from her voice ... hoarse. He was wondering as to how long they could last, all four of them in the open with supplies running low. He didn't know how much the others had, if any, but he only had very little and that wouldn't even last if he was on his own. Now there were four of them. Of course, it wasn't that he regretted his decision to team up. He was just calculating.

He reached for the water-bottle when he was given it and took two careful sips before closing it and stowing it away into his pack and looked her over once. She seemed ... soft. He was not sure she would have the fortitude to actually kill. Granted, dispatching Zombies was not technically killing since they were dead already but it was close. Her not checking deeper into the random figure she claimed to have seen, and her reasons were worrisome.

He looked at her. "Hrmm ... if it had been a person in need of help, is it not our duty to provide it? After all who can we fall back upon except ourselves, in this troubled time?" He sighed and stood up, using his oriental weapon for support. "But if he had been bitten by a zombie then it is all the more imperative that you should have checked on him. Once bitten, he will definitely turn. That can be prevented by destruction of the brain, right? You ....err ... bash his head in, so to speak, maybe then burn it. That leaves one less monster to worry about."

He shouldered the pack, pulled his weapon out of the ground and looked at the other three, and then down at himself. A rag-tag assembly of barely alive humans. "Well, then, shall we? Oh, and ma'am? If the injury is the bite of the Undead, rest assured that I shall behead you. Anything less severe is curable. Your outlook on post-apocalyptic life is rather bleak!" He tells Amber and chuckles to himself.