The Moon
Negan lay in the sand of the wastelands, hungry, tired, and beaten. It had been many days since his exile, and he wallowed in his self-pity. It felt like years ago now, that he'd been scavenging and fending for himself in this inhospitable land. It had been a while since he'd had something proper to eat. As he licked his lips thinking about a dinner back home, he realized that his mouth was dry. He could feel grit in his teeth from the days of lapping up muddy water from puddles. He bristled angrily.
He forced himself to his feet, his weakened legs trembling in exertion. He shook out his thick pelt, though much of it was matted and clumped with dried blood and dirt. After a weary stretch, he tried to find another puddle to drink from. This was becoming very tiring. Between the bouts of extreme panic and fear from the inhospitable land and its many predators, he simply lied there in wait. For what he wasn't sure. Salvation maybe? But he knew it wouldn't be coming, and this was his life now.
The sun was setting and Negan knew he'd have to find shelter quickly. He sniffed out something to drink from and grabbed a few laps of the silty water before padding off to figure out somewhere to sleep. By his calculations it'd be a full moon tonight, and there were beasts that roamed the wastelands on well lit nights like these. It was by far the most dangerous time to be exposed. The massive weeping wounds on his chest were proof of that. The most recent full moon had very nearly been his last. He moved frequently, and never really stayed in the same place for more than a few days. Something gave him the bad feeling that someone or something was stalking him across the wasteland, and he wasn't keep on letting it catch up. And he couldn't afford to get complacent either, especially with his injuries.
He slipped into a small rock formation, the one he'd been using for a shelter the last two nights. There were a small collection of items arranged on the ground where he slept, and he set about gathering them up for the move. His eyes narrowed. There was something missing. One of the few items he'd managed to bring with him to the wastelands, a bead bracelet that his sister had made for him before everything happened. There was no way he would have misplaced it. He took a deep breath in, smelling his surroundings. Something was wrong. There was a foreign scent here, someone had been in his shelter.
Negan hurriedly grabbed his few things and squeezed out of the shelter, setting off in a sprint. Something had found him and he had to lose them. It was no use worrying about the bracelet now, if he wanted to ever see his sister again he'd have to get away immediately. At this point the sun was very nearly set, and the foreboding full moon was rising. He couldn't stop to find a place to rest, not now. He'd have to continue to run through the night, and possibly face the beasts. He began to panic.
The sun creeped down below the horizon, and the moon illuminated the path in front of Negan through the scrublands. Behind him, he could hear shuttering movements, and unholy howling.