Richard Bach said, 'What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the masters calls a butterfly'. Ten to one if Richard Bach had lived to see the future, he would have killed the caterpillar than turned the world into the nightmarish butterfly it is now.
No one knows where the first epidemic started. There were theories floating around the net before the world went dark, but theories or truth about it won't save them now. The only thing anyone living could do was to find a safe place and hide. And don't get bit. Both of which was what kept Emma Swan staggering through the woods in northern Maine.
Emma gasped for breath as she pushed her exhausted body through the woods. Her boot were laden with snow, weighing her legs down. Her tangled blonde hair was tossed about outside her grey beanie. She had nothing more than a tattered pair of jeans that she'd worn since the world had died, and they were barely held together by the thinning threads. Her right hand trembled in, not only cold, but from pain. The bandage was days old and needed changing if she didn't want to die from infection. Her left hand, and less dominant, carried her only means of defense. When her group ran low on ammunitions, Emma had volunteered to use the hunting knife and leave the bullets for people who were a better shot than her. She hadn't expected a dire need for them, nor for her pack.
A heard of twenty walkers had spotted her during a scavenging expedition. Luckily, the herd had been too preoccupied with chasing her and not checking out the building where her team was resupplying. The woods had seemed like a good choice, as the snow had made walkers slower, but Emma hadn't counted on the snow slower her down as well. Days or sleepless nights, malnutrition, and freezing temperatures had taken a toll on her body. Emma could barely walk straight without risking falling into the snow.
The snow continued to fall in heavy flakes, adding to the already difficult to navigate ground. Each step sent her foot plunging deeper than Emma had suggested and took more energy to remove. Her breaths came out in short, clouded bursts. Emma paused for a moment, pressing herself against the tree by her side. She looked back at the herd and smirked breathlessly. The walkers seemed to be having just as much trouble as she was. But they had chased her farther than she had imagined. She needed to get around them and regroup with her team.
A cold hand clamped down on Emma's wrist, startling her. Her head snapped to the side, finding a stray walker coming around the tree. Its skin was a grey color and peeling from decay. Its mouth hung open, ready to sink its teeth into her arm. Emma quickly drove her knife into the walkers head and gave it a push off her body. But the force she used sent her off balance. Taking a step backward, Emma missed the difference in the terrain, more specifically, the slopped terrain. The toe of her boot skimmed the snow while the heel kept moving until her entire body tipped backward down the slow. Her back struck the earth first, knocking the breath from her lungs and sent her rolling down the snowy embankment. Her body rolled through ice encased branches and mounds that did nothing to slow her down. Her right foot hooked a hidden root and twisted her knee painfully, but was ripped out when she kept going. Snow and ice obscured her dizzying sight as she continued to roll. Her body reached the slight incline of the embankment before falling down onto a large boulder that separated her from the river. Her back struck first, bruising her ribs, and her skull struck last, sending her world into blackness.
For a few silent moments, there was nothing. No sounds of walkers above, no sounds of life below. Emma's mouth quickly opened as she tried to gasp for air. Her ribs throbbed in agony with each inhale of her lungs. She opened her eyes, only to quickly shut them immediately. The light of the snow aggravated her spinning head. Her body was engulfed in an array of pain. From the stinging of the cold, to the tiny cuts from the ice, and finally to the body seizing pain in her left leg. With her eyes closed, Emma let her left hand probe her leg as far as she could reach without hurting her ribs further. Her fingertips skimmed along the wet material of her jeans until she felt something warm. Emma opened her eyes just enough to peek through her lids. Through the spinning world, Emma recognized her hunting knife embedded in her left thigh.
She closed her eyes tightly and tipped her head against the boulder. She was screwed now. There was no way she could get back to camp in her condition. Worse, the walkers were still above the embankment, one staggering step would send the entire horde down on her. Her knife was now embedded in her leg, keeping her from bleeding out. Which also them prevented her from defending herself. She was a buffet laying in the snow. But that meant she had two options. One; pull out the knife and hope she bled to death before the walkers reached her. She didn't have any desire to feel what it was like to be eaten alive. Two; wait to be eaten alive. Although, if Emma was truly desperate, she could always crawl up the boulder and roll into the river. It would keep her out of the walkers reach and drowning or hypothermia aren't as painful as teeth.
A familiar moan caught Emma's attention, causing her to open her eyes. Her vision hadn't steadied itself yet, but she could easily recognize the staggering of the walker just above her. It dropped down to its knees and grabbed her left ankle. Emma quickly lifted her good foot and slammed it into the walker's face. The crushed snow and ice ripped off the decaying flesh from where she'd kicked him, leaving only bone. She kicked it again, pulling her leg from its hold. Fire engulfed her leg and shot up her body. Emma cried out, but kicked the walker again. It tumbled a few feet from her, giving Emma the chance to move. One her good leg, Emma pushed herself up against the boulder. Her ribs radiated pain as she pressed her back against the stone. Her vision momentarily blurred in darkness from the pain, causing her ears to ring, and send her toppling over. Her right hand pressed against the boulder while her ribs pressed painfully against her lungs. A strangled wheezing breath escaped her lips.
The walker returned to its feet and came at her. Emma quickly brought her arms up and held the walker at arms length. The walkers jaws snapped the open air, trying to sink its teeth into her face. Its hands clawed at her arms, trying to get a grip on her body. The pressure of its body on hers, antagonized her ribs further. Spots of light overtook her vision as the pain grew stronger than it ever had been. Her ribs seemed to bend against the rock the harder she was pushed against it. The walkers mouth was just inches from her face. She could smell its rancid flesh hovering over her.
Suddenly the walker was pulled away from her. The sudden weight pinning her up against the boulder was gone, leaving her unbalanced against the boulder. She slid down the boulder onto the ground again. She wrapped her right arm around her ribs, gasping for breath, begging to be relieved of her pain. She opened her eyes and looked up. The walker stood a few feet from her, along with another person! A man stood on the other side of the walker, fending it off. He was dressed in black leather, torn and old from its use. A black scarf covered the lower have of his face, obscuring a clear picture of him. One hand was glad in a black glove, but the other, his left hand was replaced with a makeshift lance. He grabbed the walker by the neck and drove the blade through the eye. The groaning form the walker ceased instantly. The man removed the blade and released the walker, letting its body fall into the snow.
The man turned away form the walker, his eyes immediately falling down on Emma. With the scar blocking his facial expression, Emma could only see the emotions in his eyes. He reached up with his right hand and pulled the black scarf from his face. His jaws was a chiseled square, dusted in a dark fuzz of scruff. His right cheek held a recent scar below his brilliant blue eye. His dark hair nearly reached his eyes, attempting to shadow them. He quickly knelt beside her, placing his hand on her ribs.
Emma's body stiffed at the contact. She tried to hold back her wounded sound, but she's far too exhausted, thus the agonized cry was far louder than she wanted anyone to hear.
"Apologies love," came a rough, accented voice. "but I have to be sure nothing's broken before I move you."
Emma's chest buckled as she tried to ease her breathing. "For what?"
"Can't leave you here for that horde." he answered. He carefully positioned himself by her side. "It'd be bad form."
"Thought chivalry died when the world ended." Emma muttered. She leaned her head back against the boulder. She was too dizzy and exhausted to stay awake much longer. Her body was starting to shake badly, and all she wanted to do was sleep.
The man lightly tapped her cheek. "Stay with me love. Can't let you fall asleep, no matter how much of a gentleman I am."
Emma moaned and opened her eyes a fraction. "You make it your mission to save a woman in distress?"
The man gave a slight smirk. "I do what I can, love. Names Killian Jones."
"Swan." Emma gasped. "Emma Swan."
"Let's get back to your people, Swan." Killian said.