aervmna.
he’s been on his own for months since he was separated from his group—and he’s always been the loner type, but in this world, being alone is something n o o n e wants. in dean’s case, he’s been wandering through some run down town. with no food and no water, limited ammo, and no one to keep him sane, he’s been slowing down for a while. the previous night was when it hit hard; the dizziness, the shortness of breath, the little black dots in his vision—and then he just collapsed.
it’s like having his head u n d e r w a t e r, the way he hears her, and he clings onto the last fragment of her words desperately the moment he realizes he blacked out. it takes a while to remember where he is, and then fact that he could’ve easily been a walker’s next meal (which to him, at the moment, wouldn’t be so bad. it’d be an end. everyone he’s seen since the beginning of this shit has had hope, and for a while, he was right there with them. how utterly i g n o r a n t of him. even he knows there’s no way out of this. it’s a two way street: you either get killed, or you stay alive long enough to see everyone around you die.).
you can’t think like that. thinking like that is what gets you killed. getting separated from your group gets you killed. —no. not being smart gets you killed.
edges start to sharpen while mossy eyes strain to focus on her. his throat’s dry as sandpaper, but he won’t ask for water because god knows if she’s a “friendly" or not. a part of him won’t ask for it, because he’s too damn stubborn, even if he’s severely dehydrated.
❝ i—— ❞ i’m f i n e, he wants to say. then he thinks, and—is he?
it'd been weeks since the place she called home had been destroyed, leaving her lost and separated from loved ones. her body ached for rest, for food but each place she came across had been cleared completely, not even a battery left behind. even with little supplies and energy, she kept moving forward, hoping to maybe find a familiar face or even a place where she could rest.
she knew it was only a matter of time that she'd cross paths with another survivor, she just didn't except them to be unconscious. instincts tell her to turn around and leave, that they're the unfriendly folks she'd encountered before, but there's a voice telling her otherwise. you've got to give people a chance. somehow even in death her father continued to remind her to be the greater good, to be the last of the lights in this dark world. each step toward them is made with caution, until finally kneeling down to their level. calloused finger tips press to his neck, feeling for the steady thump, thump, thump of his heart ---- he was still alive.
relief washes over her the moment his eyes open, the corners of lips even daring to rise to form a smile. the rasped mumble made it obvious that he was a victim of dehydration, and lucky for him she had some water to spare.
“ hold on ------ ” maggie leans over to reach for the canteen inside her pack, twisting off the cap before placing it close to his mouth.
“ go on, it's alright. ” she reassures him that it's safe, nothing more than just water.
