I'd always wondered what it would be like to be a werewolf in a zombie apocalypse. Too bad I had to find out the hard way: experience.

There are good things, and there are the things that are in that category, but they're more complicated. Like the strange sense of smell. I can always tell when a zombie is nearby, because they smell like rotten road kill. Then there's the bad thing: the transformations. They're more confusing than one would think. I mean, come on. If I ran into any survivors (which I wasn't planning on) and they wanted me to stay, how was I supposed to explain that every full moon I run into the woods to sprout hair and fangs? Exactly. Even though I wasn't planning to run into anyone…

That's exactly what I did. And it wasn't in any way that I thought I would encounter some random person.

It was the morning after my monthly transformation. I was stumbling through the trees, trying to remember where I was by grasp a hold on my surroundings. Trees. None of which looked familiar; and it didn't surprise me one bit. I had a huge gash on my side with blood gushing out of it. I had found my clothes, but the pants weren't wearable, so I was stuck with an oversize t-shirt. I was limping from muscle soreness (hey, if your bones and muscles stretched to an inhuman form, you'd hurt, too). I looked around towards a small noise, and found something I thought I'd never see again.

A dark-haired man was watching me from behind a tree, cautiously raising his gun in my direction. He must've thought I was a zombie. I would've too, because I was a fuckin' sight. I had blood all over me, including my mouth from my appetizing deer dinner from that night. Yeah, I was surprised that I was still walking. Not that he could kill me, it would just hurt… Like a bitch.

"If you're going to shoot me, I'd suggest you get it over with." I said to him, my voice hoarse.

He stared at me for what seemed like an hour, the spoke. "You been bit?"

Figuratively, yeah, I smirked to myself. Just not in the way you're thinking. "No." I said aloud. "Just really fuckin' sore."

"Are you alone?" God, I hate it when people ask short questions. I just nodded my head. "Well, you see, me and about ten others are stayin' at a farmhouse about a mile north. If you want, you can stay with us."

I thought for a minute. Stay? I didn't know if I could risk it. He said there were ten others there, so I could end up hurting someone. What if I just cleaned up, took some clothes and headed out at night when everyone was asleep? That way no one would ever know about me, I wouldn't hurt anyone, and all was well. Perfect plan. "You said a mile?" He nodded at my question. "I don't know if I can walk that far at a normal pace. You don't mind going a little slow, do you?"

He slowly approached me. "I'll carry you, if you want."

I nodded. "That'd be nice." He wrapped his arm behind my back, then hooked the other behind my knees and lifted me bridal style. "If I get heavy, don't hesitate to drop me." I tried to chuckle, but my lips didn't have the energy to smile.

"Nah, little lady. You're light as a damn feather." He started walking and I rested my head on his muscular shoulder. "M'name's Shane Walsh."

"Anna Wiley." Then, I looked up at him. "Were you in the Army? You're muscular as all get out."

He seemed to beam with pride at my observation. "Nah, I'm a… Well, was a cop." I nodded. Walsh. That name sounded so familiar, but it wouldn't surprise me if it was. With me being what I am, I had many run-ins with the law. So for all I know, he was probably one of my previous arresting officers, since cops and judges were the only people I was used to seeing for the past four years.

"Oh, that's nice."

"Mhm. What about this cut on your side? Or is that blood from something else?"

Shit. "I stabbed one of those zom-"

"Walkers." He interrupted me. "Don't call 'em nothin' but walkers when we get there. It'll scare the ladies."

"What the hell does that make me?" I scoffed.

He chuckled lightly. "Well, you seem different. I can already tell you ain't gonna be Dixon's favorite."

I snuggled against his chest, my bare legs getting goosebumps from being exposed. "And who the fuck is this 'Dixon'?"

"No one you need to worry about right now, girl." As he said this, we exited the treeline and came upon a farm house. It was about three stories high, white, and was surrounded my people. Living people. I couldn't have been more excited in my whole life. If I wasn't so sore, I'd hop out of Shane's arms and do a happy dance in front of everyone. So I just closed my eyes and waited to be laid down somewhere, a bed preferably.

"Shane!" I heard a woman yell and someone running over. "Who is that?"

"Lori, this here is Anna Wiley." She's pretty banged up, but she seems to be alright otherwise. Where's Rick?"

"He's with Carl. Why?"

Shane cleared his throat. "I just, uh, wanted to talk to him. In the meantime, can you get her checked out and cleaned up?"

Shane was becoming my favorite already. I wanted a hot bath, hot to the point that the steam cleared my nostrils, to where my skin turned red. Though, I really wanted to find out who this 'Dixon' guy was, he'd have to wait until later. I don't know if it was my animalistic instincts kicking in, but something told me that I didn't want to miss meeting that guy.