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Next update? Monkey see! Monkey do~
_______
Chapter 12
They drove in silence.
Mother and son did not say a word as the car hummed along the winding road, the school growing smaller in the rearview mirror.
The only sounds were the low rumble of the engine and the occasional sound of tires against pavement.
Minutes passed as the silence prevailed.
Then finally, she spoke, her voice soft but steady.
"Wanna talk about what happened at school?"
She didn't look at him right away, just kept her eyes on the road, hands firm on the steering wheel, but she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.
Her son shifted in his seat.
His head bowed low, his small frame curled inward like he was trying to disappear.
"…I-I punched my teacher," he mumbled, voice cracking, almost swallowed by the hum of the car.
She knew that much, but her ten year old son can knock out a grown man is beyond her.
His fingers clutched at the fabric of his pants, knuckles whitening, hands trembling in his lap.
She frowned, her heart ached at the sight, an ache only a mother feels when her child is hurting and won't say why.
She slowed the car and pulled over.
And turned to look at her son.
"Can you tell me why you punched your teacher?" she asked gently.
There was a pause, a long one.
His lips moved, but the words were too quiet to catch.
"I didn't hear that," she hummed, trying not to scare him. "Sweetheart, please tell me why you punched Mr. Dalton."
He bit down hard on his lower lip, as if trying to keep the words from spilling out. Then, with a shaky breath, he finally looked up, eyes glassy, face pale with guilt, and something else…
Fear.
"I… I fell asleep in class," he said, barely above a whisper. "I had… I had another nightmare."
She didn't interrupt, listening patiently.
"When Mr. Dalton tried to wake me up… I didn't see him. I saw… I saw..." His voice hitched, his body trembling harder now. "I saw a walking corpse. Its face was all rotten and its mouth was open and it was leaning over me like it was going to bite m—"
His voice broke.
"So I punched it. I-I didn't mean to punch Mr. Dalton… I thought…"
He choked back the rest, covering his face with both hands as tears slipped down his cheek.
The silence returned, but this time it was painfully heavy.
She reached out, one hand leaving the wheel to rest gently on his shoulder. Her thumb moved in slow, comforting circles, grounding him.
"It's okay," she whispered, voice as warm and steady as she could manage. "You're okay. You're safe, I promise."
His shoulders shuddered beneath her hand, quiet sobs escaping as he kept his face buried in his hands.
Then, after a moment, she gave his shoulder a soft squeeze.
"Tell you what," she said, gently wiping a tear from his cheek with her sleeve. "How about I make your favorite dinner tonight, huh? Extra crispy chicken tenders, curly fries, and hmm, what else?"
She playfully asked, trying to distract him.
His hands slowly lowered from his face. His eyes were red and wet, his nose was sniffling, but despite it all, he gave her the tiniest, trembling smile he could.
"…Mac and cheese," he mumbled, his voice still wobbly.
She grinned and brushed a bit of hair from his forehead. "Of course~ Can't forget the mac and cheese."
He sniffed again and tried to smile wider, even as more tears gathered in his eyes.
"Th-Thanks, Mom."
She chuckled softly and tapped the tip of his nose with her finger. "You're adorable, you know that?"
Immediately, his face scrunched up in protest as a faint blush colored his cheeks.
"I'm not adorable… I'm cool," he grumbled, folding his arms and pouting at the dashboard.
Her laugh rang out, light and sincere.
"Cool and adorable can go hand-in-hand, you know."
He groaned in mock defeat, but she could see the way he relaxed just a little in his seat. The way some of the weight seemed to lift from his shoulders.
But even as she laughed, even as she comforted him and filled the car with warmth again… part of her heart still ached.
These dreams, these nightmares.
They were getting worse.
And all she could do was be there for her son.
_______
The sun sat high in the sky, casting long shadows that crept between tents and fluttering laundry lines.
Camp life moved with a tense sort of rhythm, people doing chores, others resting, but all carrying the weight of survival like a second skin.
Shane walked the perimeter with practiced eyes, scanning, checking, always watching for trouble.
Beside him, silent as a shadow, walked Hawk.
The masked man said nothing, didn't so much as hum or grunt, and it was getting on Shane's nerves.
How Rick managed to convince him to take Hawk on his patrol was beyond him.
"You gonna say anything," Shane muttered, "or just walk there like a mute?"
Hawk tilted his head, the blank, dragon face of his mask catching the light for a moment before he responded.
"I figured I'd let you talk first, you seem the type."
Shane snorted while waving at a passing survivor he was acquainted with. "The type, huh?"
Hawk didn't answer that; he just kept walking at his side, boots crunching against the forest floor.
Shane scratched the back of his neck, glancing sideways at him.
"…So, you guys here to help? Or just scare the hell outta everyone and make us guess?"
"We're here to help," Hawk said simply. "Whether you believe that or not's up to you."
"That right?" Shane squinted. "You don't exactly inspire a whole lotta confidence, sneaking around, saying damn near nothing, wearing those creepy-ass masks. Makes people wonder what you're hiding."
"We're hiding a lot," Hawk said without hesitation, already knowing Shane was never going to fully trust them.
Shane blinked, thrown off by how confidently he said that. "That's supposed to be funny?"
"Are you laughing?"
"…"
They walked in silence again, rounding the far edge of camp, where some chairs and a fire pit sat unused.
"…You hunt?" Hawk asked, breaking the quiet this time.
Shane raised a brow, not expecting him to ask that question of all questions.
"Yeah, whenever I get the chance. Used to do it with Rick sometimes, out by the lake."
Those were the days.
"Ever fish?"
Another unexpected question, why was this guy asking him these random things?
They passed by Glenn, who was busy cooking a can of beans with a smile on his face. The smile got even bigger when Hawk waved at him as they walked by.
"Hell yeah! Me and Rick fished damn near every weekend before everything went to hell. What about you?"
Hawk gave a short nod before answering.
"Fishing's my favorite pastime."
That surprised Shane more than it should've.
"You? Fishing? Thought you boys were too busy skulking through the dark and scaring the shit out of people."
"Doesn't mean I can't enjoy a hobby," Hawk replied with a shrug.
Shane huffed a laugh at him not disagreeing with what he said, "Suppose not, watch sports before all this?"
"Not really."
"Figures."
"Though I always liked hockey."
"Of course you like hockey," Shane said, grinning a little now. "Figures you'd like the only sport where punching a guy is part of the damn game."
Hawk shrugged.
They walked a few more steps before Shane glanced over again.
"So why 'Hawk'? That your call sign or some shit?"
The answer he got was short and fast.
"Shot five walkers and a hawk with one bullet."
Shane stopped walking and stared at the man.
"Bullshit."
"Bullshit or not," Hawk replied without missing a beat. "It's how I got my name."
"How the hell'd you even—? Never mind. That's the dumbest thing I've heard all day."
Hawk just stared at him.
Shane grumbled something under his breath and shook his head, but there was the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
That's when the shouting started.
A sharp, ugly voice rose from across the camp like a crack of thunder.
"Sophia! Get your ass away from that masked freak!"
Both men immediately turned toward the noise.
"Shit," Shane muttered, already moving.
Hawk sighed to himself when he spotted who it was causing the ruckus, facepalming.
"It had barely been a fucking day, Hound…"
______
Hound felt the eyes following him and Coco as they walked around the camp.
He didn't need to look to know who was watching.
Practically everyone was.
Despite it being a whole day since they've been here.
That was the thing about wearing a dragon mask for a face, people noticed.
And they feared what they couldn't understand.
He and Coco made a slow, casual circuit around the perimeter, eyes darting to weak spots in the defense, the way some tents were too far out from the rest, and the unsecured supplies that were unguarded
He said nothing, but noted everything.
Eventually, he returned to the side of the RV and sat down on an old metal cooler, the frame creaking under his weight.
He unsheathed his combat knife and dragged a whetstone slowly along the blade with rhythmic precision.
Shhhk… shhhk… shhhk…
Each motion carved through the silence with quiet menace.
If they weren't scared before, they were probably pissing themselves now.
Coco sat beside him, alert but calm, ears twitching at distant sounds. Her fur was dark and glossy, her eyes sharp and intelligent as they swept across the camp with practiced ease.
Hawk and Doc had disappeared some time ago, probably doing recon, establishing entry points, or maybe just poking around for information like they always did.
Hound didn't ask.
Didn't need to.
They'd report back when they were ready.
Then, just beneath the sound of stone against steel, Hound heard something.
Tiny footsteps.
Light, hesitant footsteps.
He froze mid-drag, the blade angled just so.
Then slowly turned his head.
A small army of children stood behind him in a loose semi-circle.
"You should-"
"No, you-"
All of them stared wide-eyed at Coco.
None of them dared to move closer, despite clearly wanting to.
Their little hands were clenched at their sides, feet fidgeting against the dirt, bodies practically trembling with restraint.
The youngest looked like they were vibrating from the effort it took not to launch forward and bury their faces in Coco's fur.
Coco, for her part, simply tilted her head, ears perked, tail wagging. Watching them as curiously as they were watching her.
Hound smiled behind the mask.
He turned his body just slightly toward them, knife resting across his knee, voice low and gentle.
"Well?" he asked. "You kids need somethin'?"
The wall of children shuffled uncomfortably.
Then, breaking the silence, a single voice spoke up.
Carl Grimes led the charge.
He stepped forward just a little, chin tilted up, voice steady despite the nervous flutter in his chest.
"Can we… can we pet your dog?"
Hound blinked.
He let the question hang in the air for a second.
Then another.
Just long enough to watch them all start to twitch and squirm like they were standing on hot coals.
Even Carl's confidence faltered a bit under the weight of his silence.
Then he turned to Coco.
The shepherd was already looking up at him, eyes wide, ears pinned slightly back, tail giving a single hopeful thump against the dirt.
Hound exhaled a quiet huff of amusement.
"Have at it," he said, jerking his chin.
The effect was immediate.
A wave of delighted squeals and excited chatter erupted as the kids rushed forward all at once, arms outstretched, hands eager.
Coco let out a low, happy boof and sat tall and proud, basking in the praise like she was born for it, absolutely putty in their hands.
Little fingers scratched behind her ears, stroked her back, and giggled when she licked their hands or rolled onto her side for belly rubs.
Hound just leaned back against the RV, blade forgotten for the moment.
He watched with a smile as the dragon mask loomed behind a scene of innocent chaos.
But all good things must come to an end.
He heard them before he saw them, footsteps pounding on dirt, the sharp clatter of raised voices, and the unmistakable tone of parental panic.
A group of adults, the children's parents, hurried to the kids in a flurry of urgency, their expressions a mix of fear, anger, and disbelief.
"There you are!"
"What did I say about wandering off!?"
"Don't ever go near him without telling me!"
Mothers and fathers swarmed in, grabbing tiny arms and shoulders, pulling their kids back from Coco like they were snatching them from a live wire.
The children whined in protest, a few trying to pet Coco one last time before being dragged away.
"She's nice!" one kid cried, reaching back toward the shepherd.
"He let us!" another insisted.
But the adults weren't listening.
Their eyes kept flicking to his mask, and every glance carried suspicion and fear. As if they were trying to hide it but failing miserably.
He said nothing.
He simply watched, blade now sheathed, expression unreadable.
The shepherd stood calmly amid the chaos, tail slowing but still wagging as the last of the children were pulled away.
Coco's ears flicked, her gaze following the retreating figures, and she let out a soft, almost disappointed whine.
And then… There were two.
Carl and Sophia were the only ones left.
The girl stood with her hands clasped around her doll, nervously shifting from foot to foot, but not retreating.
Her mom, Carol, was nowhere in sight, probably still hanging damp clothes on the line or scrubbing something by the river.
And Carl?
He stood beside Coco with one hand resting on her back like it was the most natural thing in the world.
His eyes glanced at Hound with curiosity, no fear in sight, and his body remained relaxed.
Hound tilted his head slightly, watching both of them.
After a moment of silence, he spoke.
"Your parents forgot about you two, or did you sneak off while they were busy?"
Carl gave a tiny shrug. "Dad trusts you, and he knows I can take care of myself."
Sophia looked up shyly while petting his K-9.
"My mom is doing laundry and said I could play with the other kids," she murmured, not looking at him and looking only at Coco. "She's really cute."
Coco, as if understanding, stepped forward and gently nudged Sophia's hand with her nose. The girl giggled quietly and stroked her fur again, softer this time, more grateful.
"Can she do any tricks? One of my friends has a dog that can shake!" She excitedly asks him, eyes full of expectation.
Carl nodded in agreement, his head just as excited.
"Does she know any tricks? Pfft! Listen here, pipsqueak! Coco is the best dog! And I'll have you know I trained her myself!" He said proudly, puffing out his chest with Coco doing the same.
Carl and Sophia looked at each other before looking back at him.
"…So she knows tricks?" She asked again, hesitantly.
He sighed to himself before nodding.
"Yes, she knows tricks, she knows all the tricks your little heart can ask for."
That got them charged up.
"Really? All the tricks!?"
He simply nodded his head.
"Sit!" Sophia went first with something simple.
Coco sat.
"Roll over." Carl went next with a little bit more complicated trick.
Coco rolled.
The kids clapped and wowed, giving his dog enough praise to inflate her head the size of Rushmore.
Taking a moment to think, Sophia clapped when she came up with a command that she was sure Coco couldn't do.
"Do a flip!"
Coco did a flip.
"Whoah!" The little girl gasped out in delight, which was followed by Carl's jaw dropping.
"Barrel roll!" Carl jumped up and down.
And would you believe it?
Coco did a barrel roll.
Sophia looked at Hound in awe and amazement, having a completely new opinion of him.
Hound leaned back again against the RV, arms crossing as he watched them play with Coco, content.
Of course, just as he was about to relax, he heard more footsteps coming his way.
Hound sighed tiredly before looking to where the footsteps were coming from and tensed at who it was.
Ed Peletier.
Stomping towards them with an ugly scowl on his face with a fucking can of beer in his hand, clearly drunk out of his mind.
Hound glanced at Sophia and frowned when he saw how she was now hugging her doll as if it was a life line.
He stood up while whistling softly, causing Coco to become alert and stand guard in front of the kids.
Ed's voice cut through the camp like a blade.
"Sophia! Get your ass away from that masked freak!"
His words came slurred, sharp, and soaked in beer. The can in his hand sloshed with each angry step as he stormed toward them, red in the face, jaw clenched tight with ugly rage.
Sophia flinched as she curled in on herself, arms tightening around her doll like she was trying to disappear.
Carl stood his ground beside her, but even he shifted closer to Coco, his hand instinctively gripping the fur at her neck like she was his shield.
Ed didn't care about how he was scaring the kids or how he was making his own daughter quiver in fear.
"Don't you go near my daughter, you son of a bitch!" he barked, stepping forward and pointing the half-crushed can of beer like a weapon. "I don't care what that motherfucker said! You think I'm gonna let some psycho with a mask lurk around my daughter!?"
He tried to reach past them, his hand outstretched toward Sophia.
Hound stepped in his way.
No warning.
No words.
Just a wall of unmoving black armor hidden underneath his coat, and a cold, unreadable menace.
Ed's hand stopped mid-reach, barely a breath away from Hound's chestplate.
For a long moment, neither moved.
Then Ed sneered, too drunk to realize the danger he was in.
"The hell you gonna do, huh?! Big man with a dog and a Halloween costume! Fuckin' freak!"
Hound said nothing.
Just stared at the drunk man in front of him with disdain.
Something dangerous shifted behind those hollow eye sockets, something that promised pain and agony.
"I'm talkin' to you, asshole!" Ed shouted, stepping forward and throwing the only thing in his hand.
The beer can hit Hound square in the chest.
Foam splattered up his coat, soaking into the fabric. A few drops ran down the bone of his mask, sliding like rivers down a skull.
Gasps erupted from nearby.
More than a few heads turned.
Murmurs started as they watched, like the bystanders they were.
People stopped what they were doing.
Dale came around the RV when he heard the sound of yelling.
Amy and Andrea exchanged unsure looks as they stopped what they were doing to watch the ensuing disaster.
Lori was stepping out of her tent along with her husband, both confused as to what the screaming was all about.
Shane was already halfway to his feet from the other side of camp, glaring murder at Ed.
Hound still hadn't moved.
Carl and Sophia huddled behind Coco, who was now fully bristling, a low growl barely restrained in her throat. Her eyes locked on Ed like she was waiting for one command, just one, from her human to tear his throat apart.
Hound's hands twitched at his sides.
Every muscle in his body was screaming at him to punch this bastard.
To break every bone in his body.
To shatter his teeth on the gravel and let the mask be the last thing he ever saw.
But he didn't.
Not until Hawk gave the go ahead…
Ed puffed up in a way similar to a peacock, like he'd won something when Hound did nothing and said nothing.
Completely missing the way Hound's entire posture had shifted from calm to coiled, like a slaughter about to be unleashed at any moment.
"I knew it," Ed sneered. "You ain't shit! Just a coward hiding behind a bitch ass dog and a stupid mask! You're not scarin' me!"
Hound tilted his head again, slow and deliberate.
Did this mother fucker just insult Coco?
"…Fuck it." He'll apologize to Doc later.
Ed's sneer didn't last long.
Hound's fist connected cleanly with Ed's jaw, a devastating punch that sent the drunk bastard crashing onto the dirt like a dropped sack of bricks.
There was a sound, sharp, sudden, and brutal as his fist connected with the bastard's face.
The sound was a satisfying crunch.
And Ed Peletier went tumbling down.
The man didn't even scream, too stunned by the pain and impact as blood and two of his teeth splattered out from his mouth.
The entire camp recoiled as if they were struck themselves.
Gasps and screams rang out.
Coco didn't move, she stayed rooted beside the kids, watching her human with unwavering focus as he dealt with the problem.
Ed groaned in pain, trying to get up, but Hound wasn't finished.
He stepped forward and loomed over the man like a judgment rendered in flesh.
The mask tilted downward, casting a deep, skeletal shadow over Ed's bleeding face.
He drew his knife.
A long, gleaming blade unsheathed with a whispering slide of steel.
The camp erupted in a gasp of shock, but they did nothing but watch like the fucking bystanders they were.
"Whoa, whoa, stop! HOUND!" Rick's voice cut through the noise like a gunshot as he rushed towards the man.
"Drop the damn knife!" Shane screamed, getting there at the same time as Rick, gun drawn, already aiming it squarely at Hound.
Hound didn't even flinch.
He kept his focus on Ed, who was now on his back, scrambling backward with his elbows, heels scraping the dirt, eyes wide with pure fear and panic.
"Stop!" Rick shouted again, turning to Shane. "Put the gun down!"
"You outta your damn mind!? He's about to gut that bastard!" Shane barked.
"I said drop it!" Rick shouted, and then, without another word, he reached out and snatched Shane's gun right out of his hand.
"What the fuck!?" Shane turned, betrayed, stunned. "Rick!?"
"I'll handle this," Rick said, eyes locked on Shane, not backing down.
But Hound didn't react to either of them or the trash crawling on the dirt.
His gaze had shifted, past Ed, past the adults gathering in a shocked half-circle around them, and back… to the children.
To Carl.
To Sophia.
Sophia was trembling, her little hands clutched her doll so tight the fabric groaned. Her eyes, those big, round, frightened eyes, were locked on him.
No longer with admiration… but with fear.
She reminded him of someone.
Someone he hadn't been in a long time.
Hound exhaled through his nose, low and heavy.
Then, without warning, he moved.
The knife came down, causing the people who were watching to either scream or look away in fright.
But the knife did not penetrate flesh, but dirt.
He stabbed it beside Ed's head, the tip burying itself inches from the man's skull.
Ed flinched so hard he screamed, half-rolling to one side like he expected to die right then and there…
Silence and the smell of piss was strong.
Leaning in low, close enough for his breath to ghost over Ed's bloodied cheek.
He spoke just above a whisper, but with a voice colder than steel.
"The only reason you're not dead right now… is because of your daughter."
Ed whimpered.
Hound tilted his head slightly, his voice quieter still, just for Ed to hear, and no one else.
"So listen, and remember my words, you insignificant fucking worm, because the next time you do something that pisses me off… I will make you regret ever being born."
His words were more of a promise than a threat.
"Do. You. Understand?"
Ed nodded frantically, too terrified to speak, saliva mixing with the blood on his chin.
Hound straightened up without another word.
He yanked the knife from the earth and spun it once before sliding it back into its sheath.
Then he turned his back on Ed, cold and without hesitation, and walked over to Carl and Sophia.
They looked up at him, still shaken.
He reached out and placed a gloved hand gently on Sophia's and Carl's heads.
"I'm sorry you had to see that."
A silent apology only they can hear.
Then turned and walked away, Coco trailing beside him, tail low.
Rick knelt beside Ed, glaring at the man, but didn't say anything as he checked his broken jaw.
Shane just stood there, gunless, confused, and angry.
And around the camp, people whispered as they watched Hound walk away.