[CW: blade]
Sweat dripped from the nape of Colby's neck all the way down his back for a full hour before he decided sleep wasn't coming. The night air outside his expedition group's tent was unfamiliar; the air never smelled normal anymore, all these undercurrents and secondary layers and what have you, and all the more unpleasant because most of the layered scents were of burnt food or flesh. Still, any cool was welcome. He stood some ways away from the tent, face to the forest, bathed in the clear, translucent light of the moon.
Funny. They had never felt so close to nature before.
The first prickle down their spine was enough to send them into high alert. He spun 360 degrees on the spot, his focus on the movement and refusal to feel embarrassment (emotional sphere dominated by and large with an acute sense of panic) rendering it a rather graceful pirouette, before his sharp eyesight identified the problem. He just barely managed to stop himself from screaming.
In the Eirsasi forest ahead of them, half-concealed by dark, low-hanging leaves, was a gleaming white face. With a sinking feeling he wished he could ignore, Colby realised he recognised it all too well.
A changed man, Colby fingered the hilt of the knife in their pocket, ready for anything. But, of course, although he hadn't physically become accustomed to this reality yet, deep down he knew there was half a chance his ex-teammate wouldn't react at all.
Half a chance they wouldn't even approach.
The quietude was unsettling. Not even any wind tonight. Just the soft snores of people who'd come along on this expedition – for him, because he asked, because he wanted this, he'd led people into danger – and the unsettling gleam of two hyper-focused, inhuman eyes fixing him in their stare. Colby gulped, but his throat was dry, and it set him off coughing.
Through streaming eyes, he observed that the zombie stood, stock-still, unreactive. His hand tightened around the hilt of his knife, heart racing. Any movement could destabilise the situation. Any moment, and he could endanger the whole of his camp. Again.
It lifted its foot. Colby flinched. One lumbering step outward; one massive thunk as its foot landed on the stony ground.
A pause, thick and gelatinous.
It tilted its head, clearly sensing something on the air. The blade was cold and sharp in Colby's hand.
But the blade was never needed.
Its piercing gaze turned away at last, and the creature departed.
Colby was left standing stock-still and silent. The snores of his expedition group somehow seemed gentler. The moonlight was comforting. He was, for the first time, safe.
{[]}