After drying off and finishing their meal, they packed up and hit the trail again. The forest was quiet except for the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant calls of crows. They stepped over a fallen tree blocking their path, and as Clementine hopped down on the other side, a thought struck her.
"Hey, Micah… how old are you?" she asked suddenly.
Micah sighed, adjusting the strap of his duffel bag. "Forty-nine."
"DAMN!" Clementine blurted out before she could stop herself.
Micah shot her a look that could curdle milk.
"S-sorry," she mumbled, shrinking back.
A few seconds of silence passed before Lee cleared his throat. "I'm thirty-nine."
"I think I'm eleven," Clementine added quietly.
Micah just rolled his eyes and kept walking.
The bushes rustled ahead. A low growl cut through the air as a scruffy, wiry-haired dog emerged, teeth bared.
Micah's hand went straight to his machete.
Clementine grabbed his arm. "Wait! We can't just kill it!"
"The hell do you think you're doin'?" Micah snapped.
"It's a dog," Lee said, as if that explained everything.
"And?" Micah scoffed. "We ain't keepin' it. It's a damn burden."
"It could help hunt," Lee suggested.
Micah snorted, gesturing at the mangy mutt. "This thing? Only way it's comin' with us is in pieces—as dinner."
Clementine glared. "No. He's coming with us. I'll look after him."
Lee sighed. "Come on, Micah."
Micah rolled his eyes so hard it looked painful. "Fine. But if that little shit barks and gets us killed, I'm skinnin' it myself."
Clementine grinned as the dog trotted after them, tail wagging—until it let out a sharp yap.
"Better teach it to shut the hell up," Micah grumbled.
They reached a clearing littered with torn tents, a rusted van, and scattered camping gear.
"Looks like it's been here a while," Clementine noted, poking at a collapsed tent.
"Means they left food behind," Micah said, already rifling through a cooler.
They searched the area, but most of the supplies were ruined. Clementine found a disc and tossed it for the dog—Sam, she checked the collar—who bounded after it eagerly.
"Quit foolin' around," Micah called. "Do somethin' useful."
She shot him a look.
Micah chuckled. "Mind your manners, kid. You ain't even grown yet."
Lee smirked as he tossed aside an empty can.
Clementine, undeterred, opened another cooler—and immediately slammed it shut, gagging. "Oh GOD—"
Micah burst out laughing. Lee snorted, shaking his head.
Grumbling, Clementine rolled up her sleeves and dug through a pile of trash, pulling out a dented but intact can of beans. "Micah!" She tossed it to him.
He caught it, inspected it, then nodded. "Nice." Into the duffel it went.
Meanwhile, Lee put down a walker tied to a tree with a quick knife to the skull.
Clementine fished out a piece of cooked meat from her backpack, tore off a chunk, and held it out to Sam. "Here, boy—"
The dog snatched the entire piece from her hand.
"Hey! Not all of it—" She reached to take it back.
Sam's growl was instant. Then—CHOMP.
"AHH!" Clementine screamed as the dog's teeth sank deep into her arm, dragging her to the ground. She punched at its head, but it held on, snarling.
"CLEM!" Lee sprinted over and kicked the dog square in the ribs, sending it flying off her with a yelp.
Micah was there in an instant. His machete came down with a sickening thunk, embedding itself in the dog's skull.
Silence.
Lee dropped to his knees beside Clementine, his voice tight with worry. "Are you okay?!"
She whimpered, clutching her arm. Blood seeped through her fingers from the deep, ragged bite.
Micah sheathed his machete and knelt beside her. Without ceremony, he grabbed her wrist and yanked her arm up for inspection, ignoring her hiss of pain.
"Stupid kid," he muttered.
"What happened?" Lee demanded.
"I—I tried to take the meat back," Clementine stammered.
Lee groaned. "Clem, you never take food from a starving dog."
Micah rolled his eyes. "Shoulda let me kill it when I wanted to."
Lee grabbed their small medical kit, pulling out a needle, bandages, and fishing line. Micah snatched their last bottle of whiskey, grumbling about wasting it, before upending it directly onto her wound.
Clementine shrieked, kicking her legs. "OW! OW! STOP!"
"Hold still," Micah ordered, threading the needle.
Lee gave him a skeptical look. "You sure you know what you're doing?"
"Nope," Micah said cheerfully. "But how hard can it be?"
Lee stared at him, deadpan.
Clementine, tears streaming down her face, whimpered as Micah jabbed the needle into her skin. "I HATE YOU! I HATE BOTH OF YOU!"
"Yeah, yeah," Micah said, stitching with rough precision. "Next time, listen when I say to leave wild animals the hell alone."
Lee sighed, holding her steady. "Deep breaths, Clem. Almost done."
She sobbed, glaring at Micah through blurry vision. "You're the worst."
Micah just smirked. "And yet, here I am, keepin' you alive."