Cured [ManxMan]

The world was a blur of muted colors and a constant, gnawing hunger. My right leg dragged, a perpetual anchor, and my left arm hung heavy and unresponsive. I was a shadow among shadows, one of many, trudging through the ruined city, always at the edge of the herd. Rain began to fall, cold and relentless, plastering my stringy hair to my face, obscuring the already dim world. Every step was a treacherous dance on slick pavement.

Then, I fell. Not a stumble, but a hard, brutal impact that stole what little breath I had. Lying face down in a muddy puddle, the shuffling sounds of the herd faded into the distance. Alone. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I was truly alone.

A splash. A growl, deep in my chest. And then, human voices. A faint scent of life, of warmth, of sustenance. Hope, perhaps, but also a terrifying risk. My muscles screamed, but the hunger, an ancient, desperate fire, drove me. I pushed myself to my knees, then, with a staggering effort, to my feet.

I lurched forward, drawn by the voices, the scent, the promise. Into a narrow alley, mostly dry, the buildings blocking the rain. I saw them: four young men, silhouettes against the dim light, their voices growing clearer. "It looks familiar," one said. "How do I know you?" My eyes, cloudy and unfocused, fixed on one, taller, broader. Something... impossibly familiar. But the hunger, always the hunger, demanded its due. I lunged.