The Hunter stood completely still, listening to the quiet of the place. Hearing the heart-rending sob again, he turned to the direction from which the sound was coming from. If it were anatomically possible, his ears would have perked forward. Instead, he grinned with his bloody teeth, his hoodie casting a shadow over his gray face.
Silently, he made his way to the source of the noise, coming to a slightly open door, where, nearer, the cries were louder. He crouched low to the ground and snuck in, using his superb hearing as well as newly acquired night vision to home in on his unsuspecting prey.
In the corner of the dark, dilapidated room sat a thin, pale girl, her long white hair hanging in her face, the only clothing she wore ripped to shreds and covering very little of her skin, which was gray. Like his. What's more, she didn't smell like a survivor. No, she smelled more like…him.
Curious, he went over, stopping right in front of her as she turned around, her sobs fading as she gazed at him with watery red eyes. Eyes like his. A strange form of excitement gripped him as he realized she was infected, like him. She wasn't a mere Common Infected, either. She was a Witch.
He knew he should be cautious, as he had watched from afar how her kind ripped survivors to shreds when startled, their raw power rivaling even a Tank. But he wasn't afraid. What was even stranger, she seemed as curious about him as he was of her. Every time he had encountered a Witch, usually watching a good distance away, he had observed as the frail things even tore apart their own kind. Common Infected, Special Infected…it didn't matter. If anything disturbed their crying sessions, they were dead, and that was that. But this Witch was different.
Instead of growling a warning or charging at him, screaming like a banshee, she only huddled closer to the wall as he came near. Though his brain was as diseased as the rest of him, he still retained certain human instincts, and he smiled a greeting to her, showing his grisly teeth, and she whimpered at the sight.
Feeling the need to express he was a friend, he leaned forward, and, with a bloodied claw, gently tucked a strand of limp white hair behind her ear. She stiffened…then-minding her sharp claws-threw her arms around his neck, burying her tear-stained face in his chest.
The Hunter was surprised at first, he himself going rigid at her touch. Then he relaxed, allowing the sickly girl to cry out her sorrows in the arms of a stranger…no, not a stranger. More like a new companion. Realizing this, he immediately felt the need to protect her, wanted to protect her…even from her tears.
He pushed her away a bit so he could wipe her tears away with a bloodstained finger. He saw her blush as he did so, quickly bowing her head in embarrassment. The Hunter smirked and lifted her chin up, their eyes locking.
He gave her a smile, or as much as he could muster, and this time she did not shy away. The Witch rewarded his kindness with her own tentative smile as it played on the corners of her lips. Noticing this, he felt a sort of heat in his cheeks. Unable to control himself, he pounced her, pinning her small form beneath him.
Before she thought he was attacking, however, he removed all doubt by catching her soft lips with his. As she complied with his gesture of affection, he growled softly in satisfaction. He broke the kiss, a little hesitantly, and grabbed her about the waist, hugging her to his chest as he moved to the corner, laying down with her cuddling up to him, the pair quite comfortable in each other's company.
Exhausted from her previous loneliness, the Witch soon fell asleep in the arms of her protector, of her knight, a peaceful look on her face…probably the first time she had looked so since she had been turned. The Hunter stood guard over her throughout most of the night, sometimes looking over to watch the rise and fall of her chest to remind himself he wasn't alone. Not anymore. He made sure her dreams stayed that and not nightmares. He fell asleep with his arms still around his charge, his queen.