You were running through the woods at night, the cold winter air nipping your skin. You were running from someone, stumbling, ignoring whatever pain you felt, just desperate to get away. Eventually though, your body found itself too weak to continue, and you tripped over a log. You rolled down the hill, before roughly hitting the bottom, lying there unconscious.

Ezekiel saw everything, staring down at you from where he stood. He was just out on another one of his hunting trips, when he noticed you running. If it weren't for the fact you fell, he would've mistaken you for an animal and shot you. Normally, he'd just leave someone like you to rot, but this time felt different. He carefully climbed down, landing next to your body and crouching next to it, scooping you into his arms. He stood once more and made his way back to his cabin.

A few hours later, he had already finished patching your wounds, and put you on his bed so it'd be more comfortable. He was leaning against a wall to the side, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched you. He didn't trust you yet, but you were weak enough to not be a threat to him.