The poor kid. It was the hardest shot he'd taken in his life-- but it wasn't over. Hellen, blood-spattered and furious, held her guard position over the boy; Dingo's quiet sobs were the only break to tense quiet between the two groups. They'd lost one already-- did the scavengers really want to lose more?
She kept her weapon level, despite the ache building in her arm; it wasn't easy to hold a gun single-handed. It looked bad-ass, sure, but wasn't horribly practical. Her voice was even, and cool: “Back off. Take your shit, and walk away.”

Mark, now reloaded, leveled the double-barrel on the trio, and reluctantly, they slithered back out of the building; canned-goods and a piss-poor amount of ammo wasn't worth dying over. With a glance to to the ex-Marine, and a faint gesture of her chin, the big man vanished down the stairs. Leaving Hellen alone to stand vigil over the weeping boy.


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For my group, on DA: http://umbagog.deviantart.com