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[color=f7976a]Location: Mall Parking Lot | Interactions: [@Belle][/color][/center]

	The moans became harmonious.  A symphony of disgusting anguish getting ever louder with each shuffled footstep.  Rex began to see them, the massive herd of undead, a mobile shadow of unholy mass that grew exponentially with each passing second.  He looked in the opposite direction toward the scream and gunfire.  Even if there were two separate gunners, he had King.  It was a fair fight.  The other option, however... He would need way more arrows than what he housed in his quiver to get passed that horde.

	The problem became mathematical and therefore much simpler.  There really was no more question.  He looked toward the alley that had echoed out gunshots and gave King the signal, communicating his intentions.  The two of them moved quickly, hugging the walls of each building they passed, trying to minimize their presence.

	"Come back here! I'll break every bone in your damn body!"  The holler was gruff.  Rex and King followed it to it's source, spotting a bearded man who seemed frantic in his pursuit.   It took Rex an extra second to realize what it was he was after and, by the time he did, the stranger already had her, throwing the little girl against one of the vehicles, pressing his weight against her with a look in his eye that shouted ill intent.  "Little rat bitch think you can steal from me?!"  Rex's vision tunneled.  This was [i]not [/i]a fair fight.  In this life, he dealt with the undead everyday but today, in this moment, he was sure he was staring at a monster.

	King's growl broke Rex's trance.  The hairs on the dog's back stood on end, making him appear bigger than he actually was.  Saliva seeped out between his teeth and trailed down his jowls before hitting the hot asphalt below.  King was hungry.  Rex looked to his partner and, after a moment's hesitation, his partner looked back up at him. The cowboy swung his bow in front toward his own torso with one hand and retrieved a whittled bolt with another, never breaking eye contact.  The man drew his bow back, bending the brim of his black hat as the reinforced string moved passed his face, passed his ear and settled adjacently to the back of his head, the bolt betwixt his fingers, aimed precisely toward the warm blooded predator.  Rex's eyes then moved from King and toward the trajectory of his target.  There were three sounds after that.  One was a harsh twang, the other a sharp whistle and finally a single utterance: "Balls."  

	As if launched from a compound bow himself, King sprung to action, closing the distance between him and the little girl's assailant in what seemed like no time. Despite the German Shepherd's best efforts, the bolt beat him to the scene, landing in the bearded man's shoulder.  A second later, King got a mouthful of what he was after, bringing the guy down to the ground, his gun inadvertently discarded on the asphalt.  Ol' Beardy did not go down quietly. The dog's clenched teeth writhed back and forth with an intent to mangle.  With the man occupied, albeit noisily so, Rex casually made his approach and looked at the young girl, his eyes squinting before he spoke.  "This ain't the type a place a youngin' ought to be wandering around alone," he said, his voice deep and gravely, marked with an accent that gave away the fact that he wasn't from around here.  After a beat, he continued, "We best git.  This squealer's bound to bring all sorts of attention. Do you gotta place ya need to be?"