You’ve been living through the apocalypse for a year now, but it’s only been a short while since you’ve been infected. You held a few fuzzy memories along with most of your cognitive ability.

Recently, you had tried to take a good chunk out of John. After your failure, he snapped a muzzle over your face, tightening it in the back.

He wasn’t going to risk his life.

“Yer extra snappy this week,” John mused, patting you on the cheek before he moved away, observing your new metal accessory.