A/N: Hey there, this is my new story after feeling inspired by the trailer for season three. I am the same writer of 'Binding To The Shadows' but I couldn't find inspiration to write for it anymore so I'm hoping I can make this 10 times better! Sorry.

Intro - We Became Partners

Sometimes I wish I was crazy. The kind of crazy where you don't care if you die and you can just climb a ten-story building and not be afraid to jump off the edge. Or the kind of crazy where inanimate objects grow their own personalities and talk back to you, the kind of insane where maybe I would feel a little less lonely and a little less aggressive.

I drift my eyes down to the four-legged, solid creature walking so closely by my side that his ribs rub up against my thigh. When I first found him we weren't the friendliest towards each other.

Honestly, I was going to make a meal out of him because I thought he was dead. But as I crept closer I noticed he was still breathing, slightly. Lucky for me now I guess considering how many times he has come to my rescue.

But, when I found him lying in that gutter I figured that the pool of blood seeping from his neck meant that he was a fresh kill - that was if he wasn't injured by walkers.

But like I stated, he was still breathing. The cause of the injury was a drenched in red collar which had grown so tight on him it had cut into the tissue of his neck and was slowly suffocating his throat until I guess he couldn't handle it anymore.

I'm assuming his family died when he was a puppy and he had to survive on his own, or maybe they left him.

When I got close enough the first thing I did was take out my knife when he saw me a deep blood - curdling growl emitted from his throat and the hackles on his neck rose when he twisted to stand. Only then did I realize what a big animal he really was.

He cast a shadow over the road, blood dripped from his neck as he stood, his face was intimidating and when he bared his teeth his eyes spoke words of bloodshed. Then it was obvious to me to understand how he was able to survive.

His muffled barking was echoing through the town bringing unwanted attention so I knew I had to act fast. I was going to take out my gun, but his heavy swollen paws quickly gave way beneath him and he hit the concrete with an exhausted sigh.

Something about his beady, helpless eyes grew on me and I gave in. Four or so hours of sitting on his head, carefully cutting through his collar and using most of my supplies to disinfect and stitch it up I was done.

As fast as I possibly could I delved off his head and almost instantly he leaped up and bit me, his body was so heavy he pulled my face forwards to the earth and it felt like he was about to tear my arm off, which maybe he could have fulfilled. But after I screamed at him slashing my knife over his eye and kicking him so hard that he yelped and fell over he backed away, but never actually left.

That night I stitched up my arm up using the last of my thread and all of my tears even though I promised myself I wouldn't cry.

What do I wake up to? Sitting between two pine trees ten or so meters the same fucking dog was crouched amongst the dirt watching me with his eyes half open and a stupid casual look across his face, it almost looked as if he had expectations and was disappointed in me. I wanted to shoot him because of the distraught he had caused me but I noticed he was bleeding so... I healed him, and again, and again. When I threw stones he ignored me, when I shot arrows right next to his ear he scratched himself calmly, when I walked away he followed and eventually we became partners.

On the tiny puppy collar, he was wearing that day the name "Aslan" was embroidered on a flat, metal, golden colored bone.

That was almost three whole years ago, or two winters are how I keep track. We're about to hit our third and lately at night I feel I have to keep my fingers in my mouth to make sure they don't freeze off. It rains most evenings, lately, my shoes have been constantly soggy making my toes numb. Aslan likes to basically sit on top of me so I guess that helps with the cold.

I reach my tan fingers down and lightly scratch the top of his black head, he rises up against the touch and I look at the scarring along his neck. His body is completely black and he looks like nothing but a silhouette with a wrinkly face and a dripping pink tongue. Often at night he replies to the howls and calls of other animals in the forest. Which usually means I have to shush him and move our position to avoid being drawn upon by walkers.

But it's not all bad when he starts to fight that dog innocence is replaced with a creature that could take down a bear. His teeth are like rows of short but sharp daggers, his stumpy feet hammer at the ground and he's surprisingly loyal, even after I did half blind him in one eye.

Most of the time bandits are the ones running away from him. The only problem is he tends to get fired at a lot but apparently when a hip-high, bulking animal is racing at you with their mouth frothing and slaughter in their eyes your hand forgets how to aim and you just shoot at the floor.

We've worked a system, often he will chase them into a corner or right back towards me and all I have to do is put a bullet in their skull and raid their shit. Yesterday I picked up a full packet of bullets so it's a pretty great system. The first few times death really hung on me, all I could think about was the last look of desperation in their eyes as I cast a shadow over them and pressed the barrel between their brows.

We only see around about three or four people a year, always covered in dirt and blood, sticks in their hair and bags under their eyes. I'm not complaining because I know I look the same.

I try hard to stick to the river. Always, find the river. So I know where I'm going. We've been trotting through the woods in the same direction for almost a week. A few days ago there was a lot of commotion at a nearby cabin, we watched from the bushes as a man showed up caused some panic and then left again.

Three days later the group that inhabited the cabin walked right past us without even noticing due to our bodies being hidden by shrubs and being covered in leaves from the stormy night before.

They're most likely a few miles ahead by now, sometimes I hear a truck far in the distance I'm pretty sure it's following them, me too now I guess but I always stay off the path and hang under the trees to avoid being spotted so easily.

I've got my black backpack on my back with nothing much more than water, bullets, arrows, peroxide and a couple of reused and boiled bandages inside it. In my hand I have my bow and my is Glock tucked in my belt.

I look up to the burning ring of fire in the sky which is slowly descending behind some clouds. It's not midday yet maybe an hour or two away from it. The tips of the pine trees are swaying with the wind, their trunks coated in dark bark, some of it dripping with sap where woodpeckers have been abusing the bugs that lay underneath. I've learned to subconsciously walk stealthily through the forest, watching for tree roots and twigs. Aslan though, well, he usually rolls around over everything and pounces on mosquitoes. It looks funny to see such a serious looking animal prance around like a ballerina, only a lot less graceful.

Thinking of, I suddenly notice he leaves my side and my eyes trail after him. He trots over to the base of a tree, sniffs it for a second then lifts his leg and pees on it. I roll my eyes and wait a few seconds for him to be done, he walks back over to me and licks my hand. We forward on.

A/N: Thanks for reading. I hope you like Aslan! If you're curious to know what he looks like he's supposed to be a "Cane Corso" dog. So just search that up. If you want more please or think I could improve in a way let me know! :)