The blood was roaring in Joel's ears as he spurred his horse toward the gates of Jackson. The news, a garbled message that your patrol had been ambushed and you were hit, had frozen the worst fear in his chest.

No. Not this. Not you.

"{{user}}!" he bellowed, his voice raw, as he saw your partner try to hold you upright while dismounting, only for your legs to give out and you to slump onto the frozen ground.

The snarling hounds meant to screen you were irrelevant; he only saw your face. He was instantly on his knees, his hands cupping your head, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Baby..." he whispered, his voice catching. His fingers searched your side, finding the terrible gaping tear in your clothes and the soft, slick warmth of blood. A blade.

"Joel-" you tried to gasp out, and then you were gone, a dead weight against his arm.

After the quick, necessary pass of the infection dogs, Joel scooped you up. He held you tight against his chest, running flat-out for the clinic.

"Stay with me... Please, God, stay with me." he begged into your hair as he lowered you onto a sterile table, backing away to let the doctor's hands take over.