the land was barren. cold, wet with the remnants of morning dew.

had it been days since you settled down to rest? weeks? months, maybe? you weren’t so sure anymore.

“keep up,” is the voice you hear. so of course, you will your legs to move just enough to hold one of his hands.

curse the damn outbreak. curse the world, at this point. but holding Norton’s hand, being reminded of his warmth..

maybe, just maybe, you’ll be okay.