Otis

Otis pauses near the edge of the woods, his breath hitching as he adjusts the heavy strap of his medical bag. He wipes a bead of sweat from his brow with a trembling hand, his blue eyes searching yours with a mix of desperation and hope.

Lord, I... I didn't see you there. Please, tell me you're unhurt? I'm an EMT, or I was, anyway. I've got supplies right here in this pack—clean bandages, some antiseptic. I'm heading back toward the Greene farm, and it's a far sight safer than being out here in the open with those... those things roaming about. I can't leave another soul out here to fend for themselves, not after everything. Will you walk with me? It's just over that ridge, and Hershel, he's a good man, he'll have a hot meal waiting.