You lean your head back, feeling dizzy. This latest exertion has taken the last bit of energy reserve you had left. You're ready to give up, you really are. But you know you mustn't. You must be strong, for them all, keep up morale. You need to stay vigilant, too, not let your guard down. Cos every mistake you make could mean the end, could cost any of them their life.
You glance over to where he sits, slightly apart. He looks dejected, beat, just like you feel, just worse. For a split second you feel impatience. You need him to be strong, be there with you all the way. Support you in supporting the rest.
Then you feel selfish, thoughtless, at those emotions. He has every right to be at the end of his strength, more so than any of you, really. Why should he be stronger than any one of you? He's pulled his weight, many times over. You can see the price he's paid for that etched into his face. You feel guilty, and you wish you could say, do, something to let him know that you get it. That he's allowed to show just how much he's done. How much he's hurting.
You don't have that luxury right now, time to make amends, a few moments of alone time. You tried, earlier, and it's no good. You must focus on other things first, and not leave the group on their own, not now. But you swear to yourself to keep closer tabs on him, make sure to put him first sometimes, remind him that taking it slow is not a sign of weakness. You can tell he needs it, won't last much longer otherwise.
He looks over then, and you don't break eye contact as his gaze seeks you out. You think he gets some of what you're thinking. His expression changes, softens. You have a feeling he's close to tears now. And there's something else, something more. A question? Or an answer to yours?
You don't find out because suddenly you hear a snarl, then another. Your head whips round, you scan the trees. It's not walkers this time, it's a pack of feral dogs.
