With thanks to Ophite, who made a comment that sparked some changes.

Chapter 7 Genetic Needs

We are driven by … genetic needs: survival, love and belonging... ~ William Glasser

Clint didn't have a calendar, but judging from the way the days were getting cooler and some nights were down right cold, he was guessing it was October, or thereabouts. He'd seen a house several streets over that had pumpkins growing, so he set out to see if they were ripe. Roasted pumpkin, pumpkin seeds, and hey, maybe one for a jack o' lantern, of sorts.

Of course, his plans were ruined by a small group of stinkers, the wind blowing their stench his way and warning him. He made for his nearest rooftop haven and then proceeded to lead them along to his pit corral. On the way, he saw another group cross the main road about two miles down. He cursed under his breath. The pit was getting close to full and soon he'd have to start spending time on scouting out a new location and building the fences to hold them, as well as building boardwalks there. That meant a lot of time scavenging more wood and rope and nails. Well, it would give him something to do during the winter, when he didn't have any crops to tend or harvest.

He got the newest arrivals into the pit and ensured that fence was holding and the gate was still functional. Then he headed back for the pumpkins. On the way, he noticed that the group he had spotted earlier was closer. He'd have to lay low and let this group pass.

His plans for the next day were discarded when a deer wandered under his boardwalk to the creek. He got off a shot but the doe jumped at exactly the wrong moment and the arrow didn't hit in the heart as he had aimed it. He was pretty sure it was hit in the lungs, however, so he set off in pursuit, keeping in mind the group of walkers he'd seen yesterday.

He tried to stay to his aerial paths as much as possible, but the doe wasn't cooperating. She jumped a fence into a backyard. As soon as he made it onto the roof of the house, she doubled back and jumped over the fence on her way out. As soon as he crossed the creek, she ran back the other way. She found every patch of poison ivy, every blackberry thicket, circled one house and jumped back and forth over the creek so many times he eventually just trudged down the creekbed, soaking his boots. She end up collapsing almost under the boardwalk he had shot her from. And of course, that was when he saw something moving in the woods.

Clint broke into a run. He wrapped his rope around one of the doe's hind legs and threw the other end of the rope up and over the boardwalk. Then he sprinted for his nearest ladder. He made it into the safety of the trees and only then took a moment to catch his breath. His deer was still lying on the forest floor -better to lose it to the creepers than to lose his life, but he'd rather not lose it at all. He walked out on the boards and started hauling the deer up, careful to never become overbalanced enough that he might fall. Injuries were not something he could afford in his current state.

He got the deer up and safely tied off to a higher branch, and breathed a sigh of relief. Now he just had to figure out how to get the damned thing back home. As he considered his options, he caught another glimpse of something moving. Two people ran into view, pursued by a small group of rotters.

People.

Clint froze for a moment, then made a lightning fast decision. He grabbed his hammer and banged it on a branch close by. The two people, a man and a woman, had paused momentarily to look for options when they seemed to hear his noises and looked up. He beckoned them to follow him and made his way to his rope ladder. The two started to climb as he unslung his bow and grabbed some arrows from his special quiver that held only red painted arrows.

As soon as an arrow touched contaminated flesh, it got painted red and moved into the rotter quiver, never to be used for food hunting again. He used these arrows to slow and distract the stinkers coming after the people. As he released at one rotter, it stumbled. The arrow meant to pin it to a tree instead hit the skull. Instead of bouncing off the hard bone, getting stuck or deflecting, the arrow penetrated the bone that must have been softened by rotting.

And the walker dropped like a marionette with its strings cut. Clint was struck motionless at the revelation, then systematically turned to exterminating as many of the rotters as he could. He picked off as many as he could with his remaining arrows as the couple made their way up the ladder and into the safe haven he had built.

The two looked at each other for a moment before nodding at each other and then turning to Clint with smiles. He felt a moment of uneasiness but pushed it down. Interacting with others had always been tricky, especially people who were hearing. Before, his brother Barney had helped to bridge the communication but now he didn't even have paper and pencil.

He wanted to get them to safety, but he needed the meals and energy and protein that his deer represented. He was torn as to what he should do, when the man of the pair stepped up (literally) and started talking.

Clint shook his head 'No' and pointed to his ears, then shook his head 'No' again. The woman got a look of understanding and pulled the man back, talking to him and pointing at Clint. Clint pointed at the deer and mimed cutting it up, then carrying it. The woman talked some more, then the man pointed at the deer, at Clint, and then the two of them, then mimed walking. Clint smiled and nodded, then set about field dressing and quartering the deer. When he was finished, he shared out as much of the meat as he could and left the rest hanging. He'd have to come back for it.

He led them through his tree top maze until he made it back to his home. He felt pride at his accomplishment of having a safe base, but at the same time he felt shy and uncertain about allowing strangers into his sanctuary. He led them onto the back porch, where he did much of his food prep and cooking, and put his load down. He gestured for his two guests to sit, but when he headed back to the walkway, the man came with him. Clint gave him a questioning look, but the man mimed carrying something heavy. Clint smiled and nodded. This meant he could get the rest of the meat in one trip, not two.

When they got back, he started prepping his home made smoker to preserve some of the meat. He salted some and left some off to the side to cook fresh for tonight. The woman helped to shuck some ears of corn while Clint cut steaks from the tenderloin of the deer. He cooked everything over the fire pit and then shared it out. He spent the dinner watching as the man and woman discussed him and whether or not they should bring him back to the others.

He was incredibly glad to have other human company, but his past led him to hold back. He pretended that he couldn't read their lips and kept a slightly confused look on his face the entire time. But their conversation seemed reasonable – whether or not they could trust him, his skill with a bow (it was hard not to smile at that), the quality or rather lack thereof of his defenses (it was easy not to smile at that) and so on.

For dessert, the woman pulled out a pen. He grinned and went inside to bring back a note pad, which he handed to her.

"I am Anne. He is Lee," she wrote. Clint grinned and added his name to the list.

Food, company and conversation. Things really seemed to be looking up.