[cw for disordered eating and gore, though this is a zombie story so please be aware there will be both of these throughout] 

I’ve been with several different groups since D-Day and have witnessed many different "dealing with zombies" techniques. Some groups avoid any interaction, taking meandering routes to avoid them all together. Some are more confident and take out strays directly in the way. But I’ve never seen a group that went out of their way to kill every zombie they saw.

The group pauses while Savannah deals with strays. Sometimes there’d be a couple or a small herd and Nils would fall back, reappearing in a few moments in wolf form. All the while, Nicole and Jacob talk without reference to their strange tactics. They tell me about “the Pack”, the larger group they’d been separated from. It was a large group of over 20 people looking to settle. Families, kids, even older people. Nicole tells me they had had an apartment building near D.C. as a base that they had to abandon when the NoVa herd swept down. It was then that they got separated.

“Gracie just decided she had to come out right then,” Nicole says as we chop some brush away, one of the few tasks Savannah couldn’t take the lead on. “So now we’re just trying to catch up. We’re only a few weeks behind!”

“How do you know?” I inquire.

“Scent,” she says, tapping her nose. Grace, who is in a sling around her chest, grabs it. “That’s Mommy’s nose, yeah!”

“Is that what the other dogs are for?” I ask Nicole. Nils snorts from behind us. Though we’ve been traveling for over a week he’s barely spoken. I see him watching from underneath his eyelashes, always vigilant. He barely sleeps and I’ve never seen him eat. But now I know what I took as apathy on my first day was a front.

“No, we can smell better than them, even in human form!” Nicole says. “Dogs always find us on their own. We try not to get attached.” Just a few hours later her point is proven when a small beagle approaches from a tangle of bushes. It looks pretty bad, its flank a mangle of pink flesh. Perhaps a stray zombie did a number on it, maybe a broken chain link fence. Savannah only acknowledges it when we find an old electrical shed in the woods as our camp for the night. The reward of surviving the day is not being run off, her sniff tells it. Later, I see Nicole toss a hunk of rabbit to the beagle while our stoic leader is on guard.

Wordless traditions like this are not explained unless I inquire. This group has been working together for a long time, decisions happening naturally and with little fuss. I’m aware that my position is not much further than the beagle’s. 

A few weeks in the storm hits. It’d been drizzling on and off and hadn’t affected the agenda, but this is no drizzling. It’s a tropical storm at the very least. Traveling becomes dangerous and we have no choice but to find a highway in hopes of man made shelter. Highways with their commuter herds are a risk, but it’s a necessary one. They don’t seem worried about losing the scent in the rain, which I guess points to the sensitivity of a werewolf’s nose. 

We shout to hear each other over the noise of the storm. The baby is getting soaked despite her parents’ best efforts. Tree branches crash and fall and a lightning strike hits a point in the distance, something falling with a terrific noise. The one silver lining is Grace’s crying can’t be heard by zombies over the sound of nature. 

A line is formed with Savannah in the lead and Nils in the back, as always. The dogs struggle to keep up. We’re trying to hold onto each other, not faring much better than them. Nils’ hand on my back is the most communication we’ve had. When it loosens and he slips for the third time he falls forward, bumping into me and then down into the mud. I help him up and he glares like everything’s my fault. I hold up his hand between us.

“THIS IS EASIER,” I shout over the cacophony. His grip tightens as if saying ‘look, I’m just as strong’. We then realize we’re alone.

“FUCK!” Nils shouts. “WHY’D YOU LET GO OF NICOLE?”

“BECAUSE YOU LET GO OF ME! CAN YOU SMELL THEM?”

“I...I HAVE A COLD.”

“SERIOUSLY?”

“WHAT? I DON’T DECIDE TO BE SICK! WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO HELP, ANYWAY?!” He pushes me away and for a moment I think he’s really that upset. Then I duck as he swings his bat over my head, hitting a zombie skull with a meaty sound. I pull out my knife and immediately drop it.

“A LIL HELP HERE?” Nils yells as he swings again.

Zombie groans mingle with thunder as I wretchedly dig around the mud for my knife. The sharp blade slices my palm when I find it. Just in time, as a zombie is lunging for me. My muddy hands only have time to hold it over my head. The zombie’s rotting stomach impales on the blade and diseased guts spurt onto my hair.

A desperate fight follows. We have to double team most of them, the storm making it near impossible to perform usual maneuvers. The sweet spot in their head is hard to find in the bad light and everything slides in the mud and rain. Blood splatters against the trees as Nils swings his bat.

And then the herd is extinguished and it’s just us, breathing heavily.

“Why didn’t you turn?” I say in a normal voice, not to be heard, but just to say it. Nils’ brow furrows.

“Let’s get out of here!”

We stagger through the woods, directionless. Buildings replace trees and we randomly enter the parking lot of an outlet shopping center. We’re too exhausted to search each building and just head for the closest one. Nils breaks a window and we climb in over the broken glass. The silence inside is louder than the storm.

Nils falls on his knees, still breathing heavily. My body is demanding to collapse next to him but I make myself look around. It looks like a gas station. Most of the shelves are empty except a few useless things like bubblegum or cheap headphones. There doesn’t seem to be any big disturbances and the entrance is boarded up well besides our window. I squat down and tap Nils on the shoulder.

“Come on,” I say hoarsely. “We need to clear this place.” Nils coughs wetly and nods. Ten minutes later we confirm secure entrances and a few broken windows. There’s a back office we enter and push a desk against the door. Now we can “relax”.

“‘Fucking Christ,” Nils says, dropping to the ground again. I join him against the wall. He’s just now breathing evenly.

Once I feel like my limbs can move I check my bag. All my things are completely soaked, no surprise there. I don’t think I’ve lost anything until Nils starts to laugh. I look at him inquisitivly and all he can do is point at my foot, my sock an unspeakable color. I had lost a shoe. I did not find this as amusing as he did.

We make a small fire near a vent with copious amounts of paperwork and a nice wooden chair. Once it gets going I take off my jacket and sweater and spread them out.

“You should dry off your clothes,” I tell Nils. He glares at me.

“I’m keeping my shit on.”

“You’re already sick.” This clearly annoys him. He takes off his small drawstring bag, his only bag, and looks inside. “Is that all you own?” My exhaustion has killed any inhibitions I still had (which were not many) and I have no filter.

“Why do you care?” he asks.

“Forgive me for being slightly curious about the one person in my world. Currently.” He’s caught off guard and regardes me with a curious look.

“Yeah, this is everything I have. It’s harder to lose stuff when you have less.”

“That is true.”

“Oh, fuck yeah.” He pulls a flannel shirt out. “Everything’s dry. What a win.”

“Lucky for you.” I watch him pull out cargo shorts, cheap canvas sneakers, a white turtleneck, and even a change of socks like a post-apocalyptic-Mary-Poppins. He looks at his treasures spread out on the ground than up at me in irritation.

“If you aren’t going to wear them, I will,” I say. He growls-actually growls.

“There’s nowhere to change.”

“Want me to step out?”

“Just turn around. Don’t make it weird.” My cold back welcomes the warmth of the fire. “Don’t turn back until I say so,” Nils tells me.

“Wasn’t planning to.” A shoe hits my head.

“For your dumb foot.” It doesn’t fit very well, but it’s better than nothing. “Okay, done.”

“...Really?”

“Obviously.” Nils really did change into dry clothes remarkably fast. Except for the beanie he always wears, which is soaking wet and still on his head.

“No backup hat?”

“No,” Nils sighs. “I had one a few months ago but it got lost, so...No.”

“You’re sure to succeed.”

“Huh?”

“You’re trying to get sicker, right? You’ll be successful in no time.” Another shoe is thrown.

“I fucking hate this,” Nils complains. “I can’t smell shit. We’re going to have to wait for Savannah to find us.”

“So they’ll look for us?”

“Of course they will.” He glares, angered by my question. “Why do you even ask that?”

“If your main group left you behind, what’s stopping it from happening again?”

“Wow. Fuck you.” No shoes are thrown anymore. Nils just wraps his arms around his legs and curls into himself, staring into the fire. I realize too late that I’ve hurt him. This is not an unusual occurrence. But this time I feel regretful.

“Sorry.”

What am I saying?

“I know it wasn’t as simple as being left behind.” Nils loosens a little as I talk. “I can see you’re the type of people that will fight to stay together.”

“That was hard to choke out, was it?” he snarks, but he’s sitting better. 

I don’t know what else to say. I can’t remember ever apologizing to anyone. How fucked is that?

We spend a few minutes in silence. I toss a chair leg into the fire and Nils stamps the embers that fly out. The cold is seeping into my bones. My jacket seems to be dryer than my sweater or still wet t-shirt, so I take that off and wear it against my skin. Nils rolls his eyes like he’s unimpressed.

“Humans are so weak,” he says.

“So werewolves don’t get colds?”

“I’m going to ignore that, but you’re pushing it,” Nils warns. My stomach growls and he snorts.

“Do you have any food hidden in your pockets?” I ask. He shakes his head. “We’ll have to split my emergency rations, then.”

“No,” he says. “You can have them all. Don’t,” he says when I open my mouth to protest. Despite this, his iceberg blue eyes follow me as I warm my can of food over the fire. When I do take a sip of the expired stew, it’s the most delicious food I’ve ever had in the world. I have to hold back from eating it all.

“I’m not hungry,” I say, holding out the rest to Nils.

“I already said no.”

“You’re the one giving me sad puppy eyes.” Instead of biting back or growling, he blushes.

“I-wasn’t-sad puppy eyes-” he sputters.

“It’s there if you want it. I’m going to get some rest.” I punch my backpack into some kind of pillow and turn my back to the fire again. Laying here I have a view of the light under the door. If anything comes I’ll know about it. I just have to sleep lightly. 

Spoiler alert: I don’t. 

When I wake I’m first aware of warmth. Not from the fire, from in front. Scratchy fur with a softness underneath. It feels like the faux fur throw my mother has on her couch. The next thing I’m aware of is that someone is knocking on the door. This realization rouses me and I sit up to see Nils glaring at me. It seems he morphed into his wolf form some time during the night and we’d….well, cuddled, basically.

“Nils? Elias? Are you okay?” Nicole’s voice floats from beneath the door.

“We’re okay,” I say. “Nils is. A wolf.”

“Oh!” She sounds surprised. “Well, can you unblock whatever is in the way of the door?” The two shadows in front of the door become four. I begin pushing the desk out of the way, but it’s a little difficult by myself.

“I could use some help,” I tell Nils. He gives me a reproachful look and picks up his bag with his mouth. It doesn’t look like I’ll be getting any. When I open the door I’m greeted by another wolf. Nicole is between Nils and Savannah, size wise. Her fur is a lighter brown, almost gold, and mottled with dark brown. Her green eyes look unusual.

“Hello,” I say awkwardly. She snuffles my hand and wags her tail. Nils boofs happily and she sniffs him next, seeming satisfied in her assessment. She looks at me then begins walking down the hall, turning back to see that we’re following. We leave the store through our broken window and go out into the sun.The sky is clear and the pavement is soaked, branches littering the ground. The calm is jarring compared to the chaos of yesterday.

We head to an outlet clothing store a few buildings away and Nicole gives a happy yip as we walk through the open doors.

“Nicky?” We round the corner and see the others. Jacob, holding his daughter, is stomping out their large fire. Savannah is in human form, wearing actual pants and making stock of the group’s waterlogged supplies. The only dog is the beagle.

“Finally,” Savannah says.

“You’re alright!” Jacob cries. He jogs up to us and puts a hand on my shoulder. “We were worried sick.”

“Any injuries?” Savannah asks, launching straight into grilling me.

“Nils’ pre-existing cold,” I reply. She raises an eyebrow at Nils. If you didn’t know before, wolves can look shifty.

“There’s some changing rooms by the bathing suits,” Jacob tells Nils. He gives a snuffle of appreciation and quickly trots off.

“Get into a fight?” Savannah asks. I look down at the cut on my palm. 

“Last night. There was a small herd in the forest.” At this point Nicole would usually chime in with an oh no! or vague noise of pity, but wolf Nicole is silent.

“Nicky, here,” Jacob says, throwing her dry clothes. She delicately takes them in her mouth and heads to the changing rooms, tail still wagging. “Always a modest lady,” he tells me with a grin.

“Did you lose any supplies?” Savannah asks.

“Only my dignity.”

“Nils?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Good. This hopefully won’t set us back too far. Grab some clothes and we’ll head out soon.”

I examine the small pile of (relatively) clean clothes they’ve pulled from the racks. I’m contemplating the risk of owning a long sleeved shirt that said ‘DADDY’S GIRL’ on it when Nicole and Nils return. They’re fully clothed and bickering.

“You’re going to get actually sick if you don’t take care of yourself-” Nicole is saying.

“I’m not fucking psychic-”

“This isn’t about the getting separated part, you know it isn’t!”

“You can’t tell me how to feel. You’re not Rawls, you don’t get it,” Nils growls, pushing past her to get to Savannah. She pulls him in a one sided hug, still taking stock.

“You had her worried, lil dude.” She noogies Nils and he ducks away, the still moist beanie falling off his head in the process.

And that was when I saw the ears.