Two men trudged along not far from the road, but far enough from it to avoid being in the open. It wasn't frigid, but cold enough that you see the breath as the two walked. The sun would be starting it's decent shorly and both knew, even without speaking the words, that it was almost time to find a spot. They'd walked through the last night and today, and while they could probably continue on for another night, there was no need to. They came to realize that the only time to push yourself uncessasarily was when, well, it was necessary. When the smaller of the two spoke up, his words were accented and he would occasionally use terms and sayings incorrectly, indicated that English was a second language. The truth of the matter though, is that Fuad spoke good English and butchered things to get a rise out of the other man who seethed at such things. [color=fff200]"This place looks as well as any to make a camp. Those bushes will make good to break wind, and we can start a small fire."[/color] The larger of the two glanced over at the spot the smaller man indicated. Terry Burnard- T-Burn, more commonly, was his name- And he most certainly did seethe. He knew full well most of the jabs were intentional. He'd heard Fuad speak perfectly unaccented, smooth English before. And it just made it all the more irritating. [color=f26522]"Oh for god's sake, Fuad, speak proper English! And they'll break -up- the wind. If bushes start farting on us in camp, I'm going to be using this axe for a lot more than zombies."[/color] He swung the fire-axe he commonly held in a lazy arc as he said it, narrowly, and intentionally, avoiding making contact with Fuad's ribcage. [color=fff200]"Proper English?"[/color] Fuad snorted, ignoring the axe--it wasn't the first time T-Burn did something of the sort, and it wouldn't be the last, and spoke up in what is his best attempt at a PROPER English accent. [color=fff200]"Right sire. This seems like a dandy place to make a spot of tea. Be a good chap and pass me the crumpets would you?"[/color] As the two moved to the spot, both looked around intently. In spite of the casual atmosphere and banter that would almost lead one to believe that this was another day at the office, Terry and Fuad were alive for a reason, well two reasons. First they didn't let the world kill them and smother them with hopelessness. That, and they were capable. They knew what to look for. They were survivors. After a minute or two, Terry gave a satisfied grunt, tossing his axe down- Well, burying its head in the ground anyway- and practically ripping one of the bushes out of the ground, breaking it apart over his knee and with jerks of his hands, putting that muscle to work making firewood out of the shrub. [color=f26522]"It'll do. And never talk like that again, or the axe goes in -you-."[/color] He didn't mean it of course. Fuad had saved his ass a dozen times over, just as Terry had saved Fuad a dozen times over. They relied on each other. More than either of them would ever admit. [color=fff200]"Let us make honest. You can barely hit one of those shambling flesh bags, and when you do, you end up missing by a mile and I have to clean up the mess. What makes you think you could hit me?"[/color] As Terry took his frustrations out on the bushes, Fuad walked in a few wide circles around the camp. Looking at the ground and ahead, listening in between the talking for any sounds that were abnormal. Some people believed in silence at a time like this. In their experience however, these talked would draw out any walkers within hearing range and it was better that they find them now then randomly in the middle of the night, with one person asleep. [color=fff200]"I'm like Muhammed Ali. Fight like a butterfly, sting like bee." [/color] [color=f26522]"Bullshit, you're more like Fuad- Use a shotgun because you can't aim, run screaming like a bitch from large groups of zombies. At least I have the balls to chop heads off up close and personal."[/color] He tossed down his bush-o'-firewood, surrounding it with some rocks while he talked, and soon enough had a pleasant little fire circle... And was furiously rubbing some branches together to get the fire started. He'd done it before. Wouldn't take long. Fuad made his way back to the camp and watched Terry work at a fire. That was something Fuad just couldn't do, and while he did have matches on him, both of them knew those should be saved for when they were needed. Fuad grimaced and shook his head at Terry's going-ons. Fuad did have a shotgun, but just like the matches, he rarely used them. His prefered tools were his crowbar and his steel gauntlet. That gauntlet was an amazing piece of improvised weaponry against the undead as they had a tendency to reach out and bite or grab whatever was offered. Fuad would generally hold it out, almost giving it to them and as the bit or grabbed, smash down wish his crowbar. And on days he needed a bit more steam blown off, nothing did more to cleanse the spirits than smashing a steel gauntlet into the face of the undead. Oh, the simple pleasure in life. He sat down and didn't answer Terry right away, instead choosing to rummage through his pack for food. [color=fff200]"What say you T-Burn, tonight call for a lavish dinner? I have a can of beef and barley soup." [/color] Terry didn't answer until the first sparks of flame had taken, the leaves and brush soon catching, carrying the fire to the thicker-longer burning stems of the bush or two he'd ripped up. [color=f26522]"Yeah, sure. Soup sounds good..."[/color] The rumble from his stomach seemed to agree. Zombie apocalypse or not... Terry was a fireman! Fireman's gotta eat. The one luxury item that Fuad carried was a large pot. It was bulky and annoying at times, but when you had the time and resources to actually cook, it was a godsend. He took out a gerber utility tool and went to work opening the can after scooping up some snow to throw into the pot and water it down. Wouldn't taste as good, but there was more of it that way. After dumping the condensed soup into the snowy pot, he put it on the fire. [color=fff200]"Now we are cooking on fire!"[/color] He could almost hear Terry gritting his teeth...