Dillan placed a steel rod into the arrow rest, pulling the tense cord back with ease, his muscles tensing. Through his sights, he spied a figure off in the distance, about 20 yards away, yet somewhat unrecognizable, because of the heat flickering off of the pavement. The figure wandered towards him, and he considered letting the arrow fly; the figure might be an infected, or worse, a marauder. Yet he could see that the person, a young girl, had no identifying marks of a marauder. It didn't drip with blood as the infected do, either. He placed the quiver on his hip, and padded his way over the sand towards the girl, hopefully she needed help.<br/><br/>He had enough supplies for two people, even though he only had one sleep roll. As he approached her, his mind wandered to the fact that she might be a Muse: someone who attracted wanderers into an ambush by marauders- he pulled a rope with a ball at the end of it out of the back of his pants; it was a tactic he learned from his grandfather. It was a tactical monkey's fist, it could crush a skull like a a hot knife through butter... He hoped and prayed to himself as he drew closer, that he could get out of it...