[@Alina13][@Aintitfun1997]
Hunter knew he had to fire guns up here sometimes, he normally didn't worry about it too much as long as he never fired more then one shot. One shot alerted those things you were near, two shots they could pick out your direction. Hunter set down the shotgun and grabbed the .22 rifle. It would still make a noise, and if a walker or two was around they may come for the sound. But it was quiet enough he shouldn't cause too much of a problem.

Hunter took aim with the rifle, though when he got his sights on one of the Coyotes he stopped. He held the rifle in his hands and was unable to fire it. It wasn't until the animal was almost on top of him Which if he was holding the shotgun he would have been fine. The small bullet went right into the coyote's chest, but it still had enough momentum to land right on top of him and start attacking him. Did the animal even know it had been shot? Did Hunter actually hit it?

Hunter eventually propped the rifle between him and the coyote and raised ti enough to fire into the animal several more times, eventually falling dead. Hunter stood up over the dead animal and fired the rest of the rifle into the coyote. Even attempting to fire into it after the rifle was empty. Once he snapped back to his senses he realized they were not backing off at all. They were not scared... Were they rabid? What if they were?! 

Hunter ran over to one of the plastic containers within the camp and pulled out the box of .22 long bullets. The rifle held six shots but he only had the one clip.  One loaded he attempted to take aim again. Though he was shaking, these were not walking corpses like before, these are living things. He knew he had to do something, sitting out like this they were dead. "[color=007236]The Truck! Get to the truck![/color]" He figured at least in the back of the truck they would have some kind of advantage. Hunter himself grabbed the pumpaction and ran back with the .22 in one hand and the 12 gauge in the other.