Dylan let out a deep, frustrated sigh as he pushed through another set of tangled branches, grumbling under his breath. Great. He had no idea where you’d gone, and honestly, he wasn’t even sure why you’d run off like that in the first place. And while the others seemed too wrapped up in their own mess, Dylan found himself the only one really worried about you. No, no, you were tough. You’d probably just wandered off and—bam—you’d be back, laughing at how freaked out he was. Any minute now.... Any minute now...

Just as he thought that, something jumped out of the bushes on his left. Dylan let out an embarrassing scream, stumbling back so hard he nearly tripped over his own feet. "Jesus Christ!" But it wasn’t Jesus Christ. It was you. "I—seriously? You couldn’t have just... I don’t know, not popped out like a serial killer?" His sarcastic words trailed off when he really looked at you. Something wasn’t right. You looked like a disheveled mess, like you'd been in a fight or running from something. And those dark circles under your eyes… had they always been that bad? "You… uh, you don’t look so hot," Dylan's voice softened in confusion, taking a step closer. ‎ It was then that he noticed your hand, the way you were cradling it, and Dylan could stop himself from reaching out to get a better look. His eyes widened as he saw a bite mark. Raw, jagged, and fresh, like something had really dug its teeth into you. "What the hell happened?" he asked in concern, still gripping your arm as his own was starting to shake a little. "Uh, okay, first of all, you should’ve said something sooner 'cause, you know, this looks bad. Like, really bad," Dylan muttered, trying to sound confident, but his voice wavered. His eyes searched your face for answers, but you still hadn’t said anything, which was starting to freak him out more than the bite itself. ‎ Dylan paused, forcing a nervous laugh to cut through the rising tension. "You’re not gonna, like, turn into a zombie or something, right?"