The sun beats down hot and harsh against the asphault, burning into Yifan's skin. The sweat beads at his hairline and rolls uncomfortably down his back between the fabric of his tanktop where the gunbag slung over his shoulder is rubbing raw. The way his tongue feels like rough sand in his own mouth has him swallowing hard, brow furrowing, the permanent lines on his forehead only etching more into the layer of dirt on his darkly tanned skin.

They've been walking the road longer than he can remember, several hours at least. He didn't want to pull Sehun and Jongin from their restless sleep as the sun started to rise, but the walkers were always more sluggish at daybreak, and they couldn't waste the opportunity to distance themselves from their latest downfall. A bloodbath in Goyang was all that greeted them, and there'd been way too many close calls for Yifan's liking.

He tries not to think about the empty sleeve flapping against his shoulder.

A quiet pair of footsteps fall into place beside him and he turns his head downwards curiously, though says nothing as Joonmyun keeps his head forward, eyes trained on the road and hands clasped tight around the rifle against his chest.

"How're you feeling?" His voice comes out quiet and worn after a few minutes, and Yifan offers a weak smile.

"Not bad...Think you could give me a hand with these guns?" Yifan tries his best to joke about the situation in general, and despite the seriousness in his request, Joonmyun tries not to laugh, amusement evident as he shakes his head.

"You're unstoppable..." he mutters, and they come to a stop briefly for Joonmyun to reach up and work the gun bag off the other's long torso, careful of his tender flesh. Jongin and Sehun, who'd been trailing behind, whispering and giggling between each other like children, approach, concern in their expressions.

"Everything okay..?" Sehun asks quietly, and Jongin reaches out wordlessly to take the bag from Joonmyun and sling it over his own shoulder, adjusting the strap. Yifan nods, reaching out with his good hand to ruffle Sehun's dirty, once silver (now stained a deep hue of copper from dirt and blood alike) hair. Sehun wrinkles his nose childishly, jerking away and smoothing it back down.

"Yeah...arms were just getting tired." Yifan still hasn't quite remembered to drop the 's' yet.

"We shouldn't dilly dally too long," Joonmyun speaks again, voice gentle as he rubs Jongin's shoulder in silent thanks. "We need to get to Bucheon before Tao and Jongdae. Clear them out a path, right?"

The mention of their estranged party members pulls in a somber silence between all of them, though the determination swirls in their eyes, especial Sehun and Jongin's, and without another word, the group starts to walk again.

Yifan reaches up with his good hand and wipes the sweat from his brow before it could reach his eyes. With dirt smeared on his knuckles, he grips his knife a little tighter and takes a deep breath.

His throat still burns.