Finally decided to post this. Seriously, why did it take so long for me to have a zombie AU?

Enjoy!

Life lesson number one; the zombies may have been endless, but ammo and resources were not.

It was a thing he'd learned a long time ago, or it seemed like a long time, anyway. Once upon a time, seven months wouldn't have sounded so monumental. In the scheme of things, seven months was barely a passing of time; hardly even half a year. Now, though… now each month was a new milestone. Seven of them was damn near a miracle.

In that time he'd learned that if the zombies weren't bothering you, you didn't bother them. So much ammo had been wasted early on, trying to clear rooms he could have just as easily sneaked passed, or out of boredom when there was nothing to do but snipe the monsters roaming the streets. He didn't do that anymore. If he could quietly walk past a hoard of the smelly things, he did. They weren't really something you could learn to live with, but you could learn to live around them. Carefully.

Presently, the man carried with him all of the belongings he kept permanently. There weren't many; a backpack of supplies that included rope, some canned food he'd found in the last building he'd crashed in, and what extra ammo he had to the shot gun he avoided using at all costs. A small collection of knives were belted along his hip, mostly the standard utility knives that almost every man on the planet carried with them during their day to day lives, but there was a decent hunting knife too. In the pocket of his cargo pants could be found half a dozen homemade wooden spikes. They were easy to make, just glorified sharped sticks, but they did wonders for downing a dead on the go or in a tight spot. And they were replaceable, expendable, which made them ideal. And then there was his prized possession; a sword that had once belonged to a good friend of his. The blade was secured in a makeshift sheath that he'd tied to his pack so that it was easy to carry while keeping his hands free.

It was a life of being constantly on the move. Every so often he'd hole up for a few days at a time, a week or two maybe, but rarely any longer than that and only if the surrounding area was quiet and well stocked. The seasons were taking a turn towards winter, though, and he'd have to figure out what to do about that. It was hard enough making it through the day, sometimes, let alone thinking ahead to the coming months.

As it was, he'd been trooping through deserted stretches of old back country roads between towns for days, the kind that had more potholes than blacktop. The good thing about these tiny ass towns was that there was always a big farm house or an old barn dotting every few miles, meaning he had a few options for cover during the nights. He was getting close to the next town, though. He'd been able to see the dismal skyline of buildings when the sun had come up hours earlier. He was pushing to make it that far before the day was out and had skipped the dilapidated house that had looked to have been abandoned even before the outbreak that he'd passed a mile and half back.

A mild groaning caught his attention and he waved a vague motion, "Yeah, I'm getting tired too." He said, but kept walking. They were running out of daylight, which didn't really matter too much. The zombies weren't any more active during the night than they were during the daytime, but at least in the light of the sun you could see them coming. The darkness hid them surprisingly well. And the temperature was dropping during the nighttime hours. He pointed to a building in the distance, a small house or maybe even a shed on the edge of the town he was approaching. "As soon as we get there and clear it, we'll camp out and rest. Maybe stick around for a day or two, depending on the condition of it. What do you think?"

The creature trailing him grumbled a wordless, unintelligible sound.

"You're the least picky girlfriend I've ever had." An almost indignant growl crept from a decaying throat and the man grunted a laugh, glancing back over his shoulder. "You're talkative today, Shiro. Glad to see you're feeling better." The zombie garbled a few more sounds that almost mimicked regular human speech patterns in return and he laughed like it'd just told a joke.

•••••••

On the edge of town, Ichigo panted as he half jogged back towards the barn he'd made his resting place for the last few days. The air was getting cold during the nights and his calm breaths puffed out in front of him in little plumes. He'd been an average enough young man before all this, in his last year of earning his degree, working towards getting his phD. A lot of good that fancy degree did him, now that the world had gone to shit, but the knowledge still served him well. So had the grueling afternoons of track practice and meets. His old man used to like to give him a hard time about adding another stress factor onto his plate, said it was a distraction from his studies. He was increasingly glad he'd added that extra work to his life, though. Already being in shape when the outbreak had hit this side of the country might very well have been what saved him.

He slowed his jog as he reached the building he would be staying the night in; an old barn that had held horses at some point, probably. It was a beat up, shack of a building but despite the small cracks and gaps between boards, the walls were sturdy.

When he looked up, however, he jerked to a stop. Had he forgotten to pull the barn door shut behind him? He was pretty sure he hadn't… But he hadn't seen any living people yet and the resident zombies seemed content to stay in the streets of the small town.

Shaking it off, Ichigo eased through the doorway. But then, as the door creaked while he eased it shut, he thought he heard the scuffing of feet on dirty flooring.

'Shit,' Ichigo mentally berated himself, 'shit shit shit…' He knew he'd shut that door and now, as he edged toward the opening of one of the old horse stalls, he watched a zombie shuffle about in the corner. His gun was already drawn but he had to load the chamber and the small, three stall barn was so quiet…

He stared at the monstrosity with wide eyes but his hands were steady as he eased the hammer back. The metallic click was sharp in the silence and he held his breath, watched as the creature's head jerked up and around with the hunger-driven speed of its heritage, watched as those dead eyes landed on him without fail, but a charge never came. Not even a snarl. If anything, it seemed to smile as it tilted its head just slightly, looking past him.

Then, before Ichigo could squeeze the trigger, a thin strip of cold steel settled almost gently against the side of his neck. A rough voice from behind sent a ripple down his spine. "Shoot him and your head'll hit the floor before he does."

Ichigo froze, a thousand things flashing through his mind; confusion, revolution, dread, disbelief. He'd met other survivors. There was a reason he was alone now. Sometimes the word survivor was a loose term. Sometimes they survived in body and life but not mind. The blade against his neck pushed forward into his view, revealing a length much too vast to be a knife, as the man behind him stepped closer. A sword. "Are you crazy?!" He half whispered, eyes darting back to the beast in front of him, "That's a–" Decoy, his mind supplied as he was cut off by the deep voice.

"Hands up. Turn around and face me. If you so much as wave that thing in his direction, you're deader than he is."

"What?! What the fuck's wrong with you?"

There was obvious agitation in the voice, "I swear to god, I don't care that you're the first living, breathing person I've seen in a month. Turn around."

In front of him, the zombie stared with unblinking eyes, its head cocked at an angle and its shoulders drooping slightly. Long, tangled white hair had been pulled back in a messy, amateur tail and tied there with a bit of frayed rope. Black nailed fingers curled and uncurled in a slow but ready motion.

"That thing-" The edge of the blade pressed harder against the side of his neck. He could feel his pulse dance against it. This wasn't the same as the other off the wall survivors he'd encountered. "Ok… ok." He soothed, motions slow as he raised his hands and began to turn to face the speaker. He was gifted with the sight of a tall, lean man, built to suit a harsh life on the move. Wild hair crowned his head and hard, cold blue eyes drilled into his, more frightening and threatening than the sneer twisting handsome features. A big hand was held out towards him and Ichigo hesitated to hand the gun over.

The decision was made for him. Silent as a ghost and faster than he could react, the gun was snatched from his raised hand from behind. He jumped in surprise, nearly turning to look but for the sword against his throat that kept him still.

A grin creased the stranger's features. "Thanks, Shiro."

Behind Ichigo, a grunt that very nearly could have passed as a laugh came from the creature he'd been about to shoot. The zombie leaned in close as it pushed around him, its breath fanning against the side of his face. He cringed away from it, watching warily as it passed by him. There was something off about it, about the way it moved and acted, lacking the usual frenzy of hunger most zombies had while around a living person. It dropped the gun to the wooden floor as it neared the door, where it stopped to stand motionless like a sentry.

Ichigo slowly let his attention fall back on the sword wielder, a hard frown on his features. "What is that thing?" He asked, hands still up.

"His name's Shiro." The man said and, without skipping a beat, "That gun against your spine points in his direction, it's not him you'll need to fear." Then the sword was lowered and the big man took a step back. "I'm Grimmjow."

"Ichigo." The young man absently responded in kind, his gaze traveling past the living person and towards the dead one again. He shook his head. "Are you some sort of-" A nut job, he wanted to say, but didn't feel it was a good idea to insult a man so obviously bat-shit insane when there was a very real sword in his hands and a pet zombie a call away. "- zombie sympathizer?"

"Only when he's concerned," Grimmjow said, nodding in the creature's direction as he moved off to drop down against a wall, "You wanna kill any of the other ones, be my guest." He propped the sword against the wall at his side. It stood taller than he sat by a long shot, the white blade glinting in the fading light that seeped through cracks in the worn walls. "We're staying the night. I promised him we'd take a break. You're welcome to stay too."

"Welcome to stay?" Ichigo scoffed, "This is my-"

"Not anymore." Grimmjow aimed a heart-breaking grin at the younger and set about cleaning his sword. The zombie at the door grumbled a growling, watery sound. "Oh, yeah! Of course, you can come sit down for a while too. I'm sure Ichigo wont mind locking the door for you."

Ichigo stared in utter disbelief. He could have sworn the creature rolled its eyes. Whether it did or not, Ichigo was still astonished to watch it turn its strange eyes on him -like twin fires in the dark of a lightless sky- as it moved with slightly dragging steps to do as it was bid. It sat down beside the big man and watched quietly as the stranger laid the sword across his lap and began to polish it.

"It understands you…?"

"He." Grimmjow corrected, then shrugged, not looking up. "I think they all do to some extent, they just don't care. Or can't care, maybe. I'm a hell of a lot less likely to give a shit when I'm starving too, ya know?" He caught the disbelieving look aimed his way and ignored it.

After a few minutes, Ichigo moved to grab the gun that had been dropped. A pair of blue and a pair of dead eyes looked up at him, but when he cleared the chamber and put the gun in his belt, both seemed placated and went back to what they were doing. After another minute, he pushed the barn door closed the rest of the way and dropped the heavy wooden arm across the makeshift metal slots he'd installed a few nights ago. Then he moved to sit across from the pair, where he sat and studied them.

If they noticed, they were unfazed.

Pale, lifeless fingers twitched, before the creature raised its hand. The big man, Grimmjow, he'd called himself, paused and watched, pulling his hand out of the way as the zombie ran a finger down the handle of the blade with careful, surprisingly precise motions, following the pattern of the cloth ito. Half a smirk tugged at handsome features as Grimmjow watched, an odd patience found in his expression and the way he held himself that certainly hadn't been there while threatening Ichigo.

Ichigo frowned.

After a moment, the creature mumbled wordlessly and shifted like it was anxious.

"I know, I know." Grimmjow replied quietly, like he understood what the thing said. He began polishing the sword again.

Ichigo frowned harder.

The odd man was large for sure, both taller and heavier than Ichigo. He easily reached six feet tall and even through the layers of clothing, corded muscle was visible as he moved. His hair was dirty and grime smeared his features and his forearms where he'd pushed his sleeves up, as was to be expected of someone living on the streets like they were. Water to bathe in was more than just a luxury. It was practically a dream. But he looked surprisingly healthy, and certainly whole. Scars decorated what skin was visible but they were well healed and faded. His vivid eyes were trained down at the task at hand; clear and focused and bright.

At his side, the zombie sat in a more sorry state. It had clearly seen its fair share of scraps and encounters as well, but unlike the man, it didn't have living flesh and a healthy body that could heal its wounds. The pants it wore were faded and torn and too big on its thin but athletic frame. The shoes it wore were mismatched, the laces double knotted at an angle that suggested the blue haired man must have tied them. The creature didn't wear a shirt. Months ago, Ichigo would have gagged at the sight of pale bone and blue-grey innards. Seeing it in the field was different from seeing it on a clean, clinical table. Flesh had been torn away from its torso, shredded from the front of its ribcage on one side and down nearly to its navel. Strips of dead, bloodless meat still clung to the wound, crisscrossing over the thing's guts like something sharp had tried to tear its way through and succeeded. The rough gouge cut through the exposed bone of a rib looked fairly fresh, yet to be weathered down by time, movement and exposure. Despite how calmly it sat on the floor, it wasn't dormant the way other zombies tended to be when they ran out of things to kill and eat and the energy to keep their activity up. It was the strangest thing he'd ever seen, and considering he'd seen the rise of a zombie outbreak, that was something.

"Can't you at least put a shirt on it?" Ichigo asked, not all that shy about his wariness and mild disgust.

The big man hardly seemed offended. He shrugged a shoulder, not looking up as he flipped the blade over to begin on the other side. "Him. If you can find one he'll wear, you're welcome to put it on him. I've tried, though. He says they're uncomfortable."

"…he tells you they're uncomfortable?"

"More or less."

"Zombies don't talk… You know that, right?" Ichigo was careful with his tone, trying not to offend or agitate the man and his dangerous pet while he tried to prompt him into realizing he must be crazy.

"Yeah, man, I've been out here just as long as you have. I've dealt with the bastards and their outbreak just as long as you. Do I look like I'm stupid?" At Grimmjow's side, the zombie garbled a few sounds. "Not you, you don't count."

After he was done cleaning and polishing the sword -an hour long ritual Ichigo was sure had become daily, whether the sword had been used or not- Grimmjow slid it back into its makeshift sheath attached to his pack and propped the whole thing up against the wall beside him. "Hows the area around here look? We good to start a small fire?"

Ichigo, tired despite his paranoia and understandable caution about being near the stranger and his pet, nodded. "Yeah. There's a cluster of dead in town but they don't venture out this far often. There's an old water tower that creaks and groans. Keeps them distracted. The barn is solid enough to hide the light so it's fine as long as it stays small." He pointed towards a ring of old bricks that had already been charred black with soot where he'd made a fire the night prior.

Grimmjow matched his nod and moved away from the wall and his things, crossing the short space to sit next to the ring. He pushed a few of the splintered boards stacked around the fire ring into a small pyramid, then half leaned over to reach into his back pocket. He pulled out an old, beat up leather wallet, setting it on the ground beside him, and a lighter. From the wallet, he pulled out a paper bill and lit it on fire with the lighter. After it caught, he pushed it under the dry wood, using the money as kindling to start his fire.

Ichigo watched for a second, frowning his mild curiosity. His attention shifted to the zombie but the creature hadn't moved, so he slowly stood and moved to sit across the fire pit from the man. "You still carry your wallet?"

The bigger man grunted a laugh, but nodded and picked it up. The leather was faded and worn down to threads in parts from where his hands had run across it many, many times. "Yeah. Stupid, right? Still has my license and credit card and everything. Just one of those old, comforting habits, I guess."

"No," Ichigo said, quiet. He eyed the wallet as it was opened and though he couldn't see the contents, he could see the number of little plastic picture sleeves in it. It occurred to him that the man was young, but not too young to have had a family, maybe a wife and kids. "That's not stupid."

After a drawn out, heavy moment, the blue-eyed man seemed to shrug off whatever the question had brought up. He tucked the wallet back into his back pocket, added the lighter too, and sat up a little straighter. "You eat yet?" When all he got was a slight shake of the smaller's head, he grinned. "Dinner's on me then. Shiro, grab my bag, will ya?"

Ichigo stiffened as the undead creature huffed a wheezing, wet breath of annoyance and climbed to its feet. It brought the bag over and dropped it in Grimmjow's lap. As it started to drop down to sit next to the man, Grimmjow half jolted and snagged the creature by the back of the belt holding its pants up. He dragged it back a step, a scowl on his face. "C'mon, Shi, remember the last time you sat too close to the fire?"

The zombie hissed a sound that rattled in its throat.

"Of course you don't." Grimmjow sighed, rolling his eyes. The zombie turned on him with a scowl and a rush of angry, growling mumbles and Grimmjow held his hands up in a placating manner, "Ok, ok, fine! You do remember. Sorry. Shit. Sometimes its hard to tell what you're saying. Back off."

The zombie huffed another breath, settling down, and turned a dry, dead look on Ichigo, who choked on the laugh that wanted to escape at the odd scene.

Grimmjow glared at the creature for an extra second, then went about pulling a couple of cans and a can opener out of his bag. He didn't bother asking for preferences or apologizing over the limited options. Anything edible was good eating.

When he turned to the task at hand, in an incredibly childish display that also would have been funny under normal circumstances, as a last word of sorts, the zombie flashed teeth at the side of Grimmjow's head. The big man clearly saw it, but he merely rolled his eyes like it had happened a thousand times and ignored it.

On the other side of the fire, Ichigo, however, was horrified. He involuntarily jerked back where he sat across the small fire from the two. Not only was the stranger keeping a pet zombie, but, "It still has its teeth? What the hell is wrong with you!? What if it bites, are you insane?"

Bared teeth disappeared behind a slight frown as the zombie turned to look at him. Similarly, Grimmjow also looked up, a bit of a disbelieving look on his face. After a second, he laughed like it must have been a joke, head thrown back and great amusement in the deep rumble of his voice. "Shiro doesn't bite!" He said with a wide grin, turning to his zombie companion. Without warning and totally unprompted, he shoved his fingers clear up to the last knuckles into the creature's mouth.

Shiro reacted instantly, curling his lip and scrunching up the bridge of his nose. Ichigo stared in horror, on the verge of springing to his feet, as the creature very nearly toppled backwards to get away from the treatment, going so far as to gag and growl his dislike. When Grimmjow pulled his slobber covered hand back, wiping it on his shirt, the zombie scrambled upright and glared murder down at him. Then he grumbled and 'complained' the entire way around the fire -an extra step away from it as he shuffled by- and dropped to sit at Ichigo's side instead, where he continued to glare at Grimmjow over the flames.

Ichigo leaned away from it, but couldn't help but look between the creature and the human it glared at and back again. The entire display was ridiculous and while he hadn't made a point to spend any extra time getting to know a zombie or two, he was fairly certain this was not normal zombie behavior.

On the opposite side of the fire, Grimmjow threw his hands up, "What?" He half shouted in offended disbelief, "You like him more than me now? Well have fun, asshole, he doesn't even like you back. He thinks you're gross and a monster."

Shiro hissed a complaint back, frowning as he scooted a bit to put a few extra inches between himself and Ichigo.

"What- I didn't– I didn't say that…" Ichigo stammered, completely bewildered as to why he cared if he just inadvertently hurt a zombie's feelings. "You're not– I…"

The zombie looked at him with a dry expression and sighed a puff of air from its nose. It rattled in his chest on the way out. Then, as if purely to prove him wrong, it leaned toward him and Ichigo automatically leaned away. Shiro cocked his head slightly and rolled his eyes, sitting up again as he scooted another few inches away.

Ichigo mentally stumbled over the reaction and how to take it. Had it been a living person sitting beside him -granted, a good arm's length away now- he'd have done just about anything in his power to make amends. But… A zombie…? With few options, he instead turned his bewildered look over to said zombie's owner.

Grimmjow grinned wide and sharp over the fire at him.

Ichigo glared daggers.

Later, Grimmjow lead Shiro into one of the old stalls where the two laid down for the night. Ichigo eyed the pair speculatively, a little reserved and maybe unsure what to think about it, as he listened to bigger man talk to his companion.

"It's fine, Shi, I promised we could settle down for a night or two, right? Go ahead and rest." Grimmjow said as he pushed the half-height stall door closed behind them. The zombie groaned and Ichigo frowned at how, even though it was just a random, unintelligible sound, the big man seemed to know what it was saying. Blue eyes turned in the smaller's direction over the door as Grimmjow answered, "Don't worry about him, he's one of the decent ones, it'll be fine." and sank down against the wood of the stall's interior.

Ichigo frowned, wondering if that was supposed to be a warning, but it didn't matter. The stranger was right; Ichigo wouldn't have been able to knife the two in the middle of the night for no reason. Odd as the pair was, they'd fed him and were letting him stay when they could have easily forced him out into the darkening streets, or just outright killed him when they'd first appeared. They were strong, he could tell, and he was outnumbered.

After a few minutes of listening to bodies shift, cloth rub against the ground and the heavy, hollow sound of a shotgun being loaded, Ichigo chose a spot near the wall opposite of the stall and prepared to settle in for the night. He pulled his gun into his lap, but he already knew he wouldn't need to use it.

That next morning, Grimmjow awoke with the sun, like usual, and just like usual, he was calm and quiet as he rolled over to take a quick, cursory glance about his surroundings before realizing something was missing. He bolted upright, searching the space of the stall he'd closed behind himself and Shiro the night prior, but the creature was gone and the door was latched.

"Shi? Shiro?!" Grimmjow jumped to his feet, nearly tripping in his haste, and tore around the corner of the stall, half panicked. The only thing he could think of was the stranger they'd met the night prior, the one he was currently cursing himself for trusting. "Ichigo! If you hurt him, I swear-"

"–to god that you don't care if I'm the first living breathing person you've seen in a month– yeah yeah yeah," Ichigo mimicked with a roll of his eyes, "I heard you the first time."

Seated in front of him on the ground with his hands clasped together in his lap, the zombie snorted an airy sound that could have passed as a laugh. Other than the rough sound, he didn't move, not even enough to turn his head to look at Grimmjow.

Grimmjow stood there where he'd skidded to a halt a pace away and stared down at the two, a little shocked to see them interacting, let alone the task the stranger had set himself to. "What the hell are you doing?"

Ichigo again rolled his eyes, but didn't look up as he worked long, greasy strands of colorless hair between his fingers. "Well… I was just going to cut it off. It's more practical than long hair, and that tail was so knotted and poorly done…"

Grimmjow's brows furrowed into a mild glare.

"But he-"

Then he interrupted the stranger, crossing his arms over his chest, "He likes his hair long."

Ichigo looked up at him finally, his hands pausing as he took the bigger man's measure. After a second, "Yeah. I figured that out." With a mildly bewildered shake of his head, he went back to untangling the creature's matted, messy hair. It was even longer than he'd first realized, now that the strands were straighter and less tangled, reaching to the creature's mid-back. "So I've spent the past half an hour cutting that rope from his hair and trying to untangle it." In front of him, Shiro shifted, half turning to look over at his companion as he took note of the tension between the two. Ichigo's motions stilled and he stiffened, readied, before drawling a semi suspicious, "We agreed before I let you out of that stall…"

The zombie mumbled wordlessly and faced forward again, going still but for the huff of air that made his damaged chest rise and fall steeply.

Grimmjow snorted a laugh, finally dropping to sit in front of where they'd made their fire the night prior. "He's not going to turn around and eat your face off. You don't have to treat him like he's not trustworthy."

"Yeah, well…" Ichigo went back to the task at hand, dividing the smoother mess of hair into three sections to begin braiding it all into something less easily tangled and snagged. "I didn't say I magically decided he wasn't a dead. I just… felt bad about yesterday. Thanks to you. So when I saw that he'd woken up before you and he was trying to figure out how to open up that stall door, I figured I could make up for it. We're even after this."

"You may not trust him, but he obviously trusts you." Grimmjow commented, watching a moment longer. He studied the way his friend sat so patiently and still. Granted, part of his patience came from being undead. He'd never been all that patient in life. But still. "He decides pretty quick who we like and who we don't."

"What? Is he like a dog now?" Ichigo quipped back, a bit of heat in his voice.

"No, and don't you dare treat him like one." Grimmjow narrowed his eyes, "But he does run on more instinct now and I trust his judgement."

Ichigo blinked, his frown turning less apprehensive and more thoughtfully confused. "Are you saying you like me now? After threatening to cut my head off last night?"

"No. I'm saying I trust you." Grimmjow drawled, a growl in his voice. "Enough so to sleep locked in a barn with you."

"Your guard zombie would have kept you safe."

Grimmjow shrugged. Shiro grumbled. Ichigo continued his braiding, and Grimmjow continued his line of thought. "Enough to share space and food with you, another survivor, when I've ran into more deadly living than I have dead. You get my point, don't play dumb."

Ichigo scoffed an unimpressed sound, but the bigger man wasn't wrong in what he was getting at and Ichigo had no desire to prove him otherwise. It'd been a while since he'd come across other living people, and even longer since he'd done so and not felt endangered by their presence. The defensiveness in his actions and words was just second nature at this point. He'd been screwed over before and he was determined not to let his death be at the hands of a living person.

A few seconds longer and Ichigo finished the braid, using the longest part of the rope he'd cut out of the creature's hair originally to tie it off. He eyed his handy work for a moment, decided it would serve its purpose, and climbed to his feet. "Ok, you're done." He said, backing up a step before the zombie had the chance to start moving around. He watched it as it belatedly reacted to his words, then turned to Grimmjow as he spoke, "We're not going to be able to stay long. I've spent the last few days digging through the area. The town's small, barely three streets. There's not much here."

Grimmjow glanced over at his friend, half a smirk tugging at one corner of his lips when the zombie reached up and, lacking refined motor skills, missed in his first attempt to get ahold of the long braid of his hair. He absently nodded his understanding and agreed, "Yeah, we need to keep heading south before winter sets in. Nights are getting cold. I don't know about you, but I don't have the resources to last a winter out here right now, especially if we get a harsh one and a lot of snow."

Ichigo cringed. His input wasn't needed. One look around showed he didn't have it any better than Grimmjow did. They were both alone, both on the move, without established safety, let alone a reliable source of food and necessities.

They rested up another night, then gathered their things that next morning. Without a word about it, they set out together, the three of them.

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