See above image for when I wrote this. This was one of the first writings with my Hunter boy. I wasn't sure, yet, how I wanted to portray him. You'll see through the next couple of shorts how I've figured him out.
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Danger. He was in danger.

The Hunter's already-fast heartbeat thundered in his ears, driving his arms and legs even faster. Something behind him snapped. A cuss followed.

Don't look back don't look back danger bad bad bad.

A deafening sound boomed, making the zombie's heightened hearing before for mercy. Without thinking, Roanoke screamed.

His ears were ringing. He couldn't stop it.

Cover ears. Claw. Tear.

It hurt. Holy shit did it hurt! He could smell the blood trailing from his ears.

More cussing. He tried -really, really tried- to understand what the group following him were saying. It wasn't so much that he didn't understand. No, he could hear them. He remembered the words.

Just... Not all came through. Like hearing someone talking on the otherside of a thick door. Bits and pieces are there, but not enough.

A sobbing scream tore from him again. A wail so sharp and pained.

Then a soft voice greeted him as he lay there, curled into a ball at the vause of a tree. Through teary, glazed eyes, Roanoke looked up to see Alpha, her hair a flaming red and her eyes a green-blue sheen.

Another figure appeared, this one male. He bore a long, jagged scar across his throat. Scar-throat. His mousey-brown hair was soft, decenty-long, too. Brown eyes were trained on Roanoke's own.

Beside him stood a petite girl, her grayish orbs scanning over his body for wounds. Her blonde hair was braided, though some strands refused to be tamed. Some shouting echoed around them, and the Hunter curled even tighter into a ball.

"Shit, we can't stay here!! Help me grab him, Scar!!"

The man in question nodded, hooking his arms under Yawp's. Alpha

(Plot:  the trio trying to comfort Yawp from something, I guess)