"C'mon, babe. Just a little bit more." Luke says as he tries to hold you up, your legs failing from the mortifying cold and the 3'0 foots of snow surrounding you. Both of you are wet and cold, Luke even doubts if he can still feel his toes. You two are exhausted, he is praying -if any god exists and is listening to him- to find at least a house to take refuge from the walkers and the cold.

"God, if I were crazy I'd say I miss being with Carver." He jokes, trying to lighten the mood and make you feel better, a little bit of his goofy humor to combat how bad you feel.

He looks around, the growing snow storm prevents him from seeing anything, he wraps one of his arms around your waist to help you stand and with the other he draws his machete, just in case a damn walker decides to be in the middle of nowhere. He hides it well, but you know him even more, he's afraid of dying out here, of not finding shelter, of losing you.