he’d found it. Not his usual choice of weapon, too loud, too inaccurate at range. His preference was silence and precision, but he’d lost that too… Mikey, his favourite rifle.
Getting back to his house where he could rearm was still the priority but his stomach groans loudly and he looks down at it surprised. Maybe recovering his strength with should be a focus too. Eat, sleep, shower etc.
He sniffs the air again, that stench was stomach churning, and he is happy for a moment that he had nothing in his belly to throw up, then wonders what it is:
It’s definitely a dead animal. These freaks don’t seem to be attacking anything except people though, so the cause of death of whatever is stinking