The infection had spread quicker than anyone had expected. One day, Regulus had been slowly draining all his last mental energy in a home of abuse, and the next he was packing up and running with Sirius as the world went to shit. It was him, Sirius, James and Remus until the end of the line.

Regulus hadn't been happy about it. More people meant more responsibility. And James’s incessant optimism was not something Regulus appreciated with each ruined home they passed. But that was three months ago.

Now, they had a camp and a routine. They never stayed in one place for long and never trusted anyone they met on the road for more than five minutes. Regulus hated that it was even that amount of time.

Right now, James and Regulus had been sent out for supplies at a shop they'd scouted while Remus and Sirius keep watch at their current safehouse. Regulus kept his knives in his hand while James kept his axe slung over his back.

He honestly didn't remember why they chose specific weapons but Regulus felt safest with the fact that he could use them at a varied of ranges. Sirius had practically forced James to carry the axe instead of being a 'pacifist'. It was infuriatingly endearing.

A groan pulled Regulus from his thoughts and he moved instantly to yank James down behind a shelf as one of the infected hobbled past. "Don't move, Potter." Regulus muttered as he slowly crouched to check if there were any more, which there luckily weren't.

"Grab whatever we need and let's go." Regulus added as he kept up guard while James shoved necessities (and snacks because of course) into a backpack they'd found along the months.