I don't own any of the characters of the Walking Dead. My OC is the only thing that is mine.
My Hawaiian and Kiribati are a little rusty so please review if this is something worth continuing.
The night was cool.
Hot enough to warrant sleeping in basketball shorts and a tank top but cool enough for a sheet. The window let in a breeze every now and then, not much, but I was comfortably snuggled in my bed. Listening for daddy to come home from duty. He hadn't been home much the past two days. Which was not uncommon working at the base, but he seemed… out of it… the last time I saw him.
Scared even… but Dad never gets scared. He was the meanest, strongest, hardest working mad I have ever seen. But it worried me… I hope he did not get sick like those other people she heard about. He said it was a 'contained' incident.
He was worried… I could tell.
I heard the front door open and close then his boots take the stares two at a time.
I smiled to myself, he forgot the alarm again. I always made fun of him for forgetting it. Especially when he goes into soldier mode as the obnoxious noise filled the house. He never would admit it scared him, just blow it off like it was just reflex left over from serving four tours in Afghanistan and all.
I heard his boots approaching my room. With a sigh and a toss of my fuzzy mass of curls, I turned on my side. Feigning sleep so he wouldn't worry about me waiting up for him.
He was such a worrier.
He burst in my room, causing me to jump a little and a memory flash across my eyes. I shook it away, releasing the knife under my pillow, and turned to see Dads concerned face.
"Dad? What's wrong?" Only half his face shown in the street light coming in from the window.
"Get dressed. Shoes, sweater, and your Red Bag. Meet me down stares in two minutes." His commander voice was on. "Use only your flashlight, no lights, no sound."
I was confused and concerned. But scared more than anything. I'd only heard him use that voice once when I watched him at boot camp on visitor day. He was scary then, but this was even worse.
The house alarm blare, obnoxious tones ricocheting around the house. A look of complete horror covered Dad's face before bolting out the door and down stairs.
I jumped into action. Not giving it a second thought pulling on shoes, hoody, and tugged the 72 hour kit out from the corner of my bed. I was really starting to worry now.
Is this another drill?
He's too serious.
Before I realized it, my hand was under my pillow, pulling the very sharp Mano for comfort.
Somewhere in there, daddy returned, alarm off, his own 72-hour kit over a sholder. His shot gun, Alamo, in the other hand and began shoving furniture in front of the door.
I marveled at his speed and strength. Wondering if he was like that before the military.
I shook my head.
Not the time for this.
"Daddy? Anga-?" My body jerked, a small yelp escaping from my lips at the sound of breaking class and shattering wood. Daddy paused in his rearrangement of furniture to listen. Even being upstairs, we could hear scuffling by multiple hostiles.
Very carefully, he finished moving the dresser, blocking the door, before turning to me. My eyes searching his face, then moving down his body to rest on a patch of blood.
"Daddy? You're-"
His finger went to his lips. Then his hand formed multiple signals in succession. First hand cupped his ear, then patted his wrist before pointing down stairs.
Listen. Enemy. Down stairs.
He was in full army mode.
This was not a drill.
Fear hit me like a ten-pound weight. It had been so long since I had felt fear like this, and so suddenly, that it took me by surprise. Beginning to close in on my vision and windpipe and causing my hands to shake.
Dad waved his hand until my eyes fixed on his. Raising two fingers, he pointed to my eyes then his.
Watch me.
He took a deep breath.
I follow suit, though not as calm and in shorter breaths.
Once he felt I was alright, or deciding there was no time for this, his hand began to sign again. Thumb and finger out like a gun, pointing to his bag then to me then to a spot by the window before making a fist, arm at a right angle, waiting for my answer. Taking another deep breath I gave an "a ok" sign.
Gun. Your bag. By window. Understand? Message received.
His fist pumped in the air twice before resting on Alamo and taking a defensive stance facing the door.
Hurry.
Eyes flicking to the blood spots on the floor, but I hurried to my closet and the hidden shelf like he instructed. Taking Kakatia out of its case before stuffing it in a side pocket with extra clips. As a side thought I started stuffing my 72 hour kit with everything I found on the shelf. My second knife being one of the main items. I turned, watching Dad lean against the wall beside the window, cautiously looking outside in between watching the door. Searching.
Quietly securing my pack on my back, my hands shaking too much to lock the clips, before carefully making my way to him.
There was a tension in the room. So thick I could almost reach out and grab it, but I was afraid to. Afraid the snap might unleash chaos.
Breathlessly, I waited.
I could not take it anymore when the scrapping seemed to be coming up the stairs.
Scooting so close to him I could feel the hairs on his arm tickle mine, I whispered
"Daddy? What-?" He put his finger to his lips, again, silencing me. He took one last glance out the window, before grasping my arm and putting his lips close to my ear.
"The disease is out of control. Anyone it infects dies from a hot fever then they- they- come back…"
"Come back?" I mouthed, following his eyes to the door. My stomach started churning, images popping in my head. A scraping on the door sent my hand to Dads arm, squeezing to keep down the yelp caught in my throat.
Something was there.
"They are dead-can walk…" He hissed, his eyes fixed to the door too. Alamo raised at point blank. "They eat people- tear into them- if there is anything left, they become dead walking."
Something else joined the first, scratched at the door.
How many were there? Could we take them?
"They are attracted to light… smell…"
My eyes saw the blood on the floor again, pointing it out to Daddy. He did not see my gesture so I squeezed his arm again to get his attention. His body tensed when he finally tore his eyes away from the door to look, cussing under his breath. Something about a rash decision.
"Yes, smell. But sound…" My eyes opened wider. The alarm…
Something slammed against the door, Daddy's hand clasping over my mouth when I gasped. The door withstood, for now.
"Do not let them bite or scratch you." He breathed before shoving me to the window. "If we get separated, refuge in Atlanta at highway 85 right outside the city. Go to the woods, I'm right behind you."
Another slam echoed off the walls, followed by growling and scratching, shaking the assortment of pictures.
Pictures.
Pulling away from the window I ran to my dresser.
"Kai!" Daddy hissed, taking a defensive stance again, Alamo securely resting against his shoulder.
Swiftly I grabbed the small book, shoving it in my pack, swinging it over my shoulders and was back at the window in a split second.
Never taking his eyes off the door, Daddy motioned with his head out the window. Glancing out into the night, I waited. Nothing moving.
"Clear?" Daddy asked, watching the doorknob turn.
"Clear." I whispered, swinging a leg over the seal.
Another loud crash echoed through the room.
Hell broke loose.
Reds and golds streaked across the sky behind the menacing buildings. I gave them one last look before shifting my backpack. There were plenty of vehicles to choose from. I just needed one Dad would-there! It was the same make and model of the one he had.
Crouching down beside the rear tire, I pulled my back off to pull out a pen and pad of paper. Scribbling a few non-descriptive instructions, I sealed it away in a zip-lock bag (where were like gold now), and stuffed it behind the wheel.
Slowly getting to my feet, looking over the hoods of miles of vehicles, before quickly writing "Ohana" across the windshield in the mucky dirt. At least I hoped it was dirt.
Dad will know where to look.
I have plenty of supplies to get me to the base if I ration them.
What then?
Shifting my makeshift bow from one arm to the other, I kept a close eye on my surroundings. Starting off weaving among vehicles. My staff raised just in case of any surprised. It was handy, but I learned once if the Lolos were that close you were almost good as Kaukau. I came out lucky that time. My second day-or was it the first- outside Atlanta and I almost Kaukau. Dad would have chewed me out and made me give him fifty.
I mean, I was distracted because I was looking for Dad, any sign he had been through there. And I was humming. I tend to do that when I'm thinking really hard. Lolo stumbled out a car probably thought I was some grind but tripped over his own da kine before he could take a swipe at me. It took a few tries, jabbing him in the chest and torso, before my pointed staff caught him in the temple.
My second kill.
But does it really count as a "kill" if it's already dead?
After that I kept them at a safe distance with Kolohe, my trusty bow. At least that was the plan, still working on the logistics. Like aiming.
My recently developed mad sneaking skills mostly kept me out of their way. Which got harder the further into Atlanta I got. I waited outside the city for five days -maybe six. Maybe I should be keeping track of the days. I stopped counting after the sixth day. That was the night I slept in an old VW camper van right outside of Atlanta. Nasty thing, smelled of boos and drugs, but the windows had curtains to hide me- scrounging around in the cars but I eventually had to move closer and closer to the city for supplies.
And a small part of me hoped I would come across Dad if I just could go a little further in.
He said he would be there.
I got pretty good sneaking in, sneaking out without having to deal with the Lolos. There was just too many of them walking around. I almost got overwhelmed a few times, barely getting away when a few snuck up behind me. Which I am still not sure how that happened because they are SO loud.
Daddy wasn't there.
I waited two weeks.
Or was it closer to three?
He always keeps his promises.
I could not stay anymore.
He could be-
Enough.
Arguing with myself wasn't a good sign of my mental well being. Like that country song Dad would always belt out in the truck, I heard voices all the time. Mostly Dad, since he taught me about survival, but sometimes mom too.
It was time to leave and find a good place to set up a more permanent camp. Something with fortifications.
The weather wasn't too bad. Sun was starting it's decent and I wanted to get somewhere comfortable before I couldn't see anymore. Preferable in the woods and not in this car cemetery. Other survivors were a concern too. They would mostly likely stick to the road.
That's what Dad would think. He would say to get to a good advantage point where you are out of danger but have a good view of what may come-or something like that. Kane, I wish I'd paid more attention to his truck rants.
Stop humming!
I chastised myself. Biting my bottom lip.
Momma would say singing always helps when things are hard. But singing will kill you out here.
I sighed.
One thing I was looking forward to by leaving the city is sleeping in a tall tree where Lolos can't get me. It was just one little thing, but it is the little things that mean a lot, they say. I kind of understand them know. All those "it's the little things that count" Memes. Like finding a toothbrush still in the wrapper. Or a stick of gum that isn't cinnamon.
Glancing at the sun I picked up the pace, determined to get to the woods before dark because I did NOT want to sleep in one of these cars, again.
"Tree is 'Kumula'au' and- what is the Kiribati word-'Arak'? 'Aroka'!" Pointing to each thing when I named them.
"Evening", looking to the sky, "is Ahiahi and Tairiki."
"And Hell", pointing back at the city, "is Ka malu o and Mo-"
I froze.
A red hat bobbed between cars.
Taking cover, I waited, slowing my breath. Lolos usually don't travel alone, from my limited experience, at least not this close to such a highly populated place.
A threat?
Survivor?
Dad told me all kinds of stories from the war about horrible things people do to each other for the necessities of life.
I waited, crouching further down when I heard his hurried steps approaching. Taking a chance, I peeked around a bumper, when he was close.
It was an Asian boy about my age. He looked hot- temperature wise with huge sweat spots under his arms- in a baseball shirt, lugging a huge backpack. He kept glancing back but seemed to be alone.
If my momma didn't raise me right, he would have been a perfect target all by himself. I mean, no obvious weapon and he looked scrawny.
Why is he all by himself?
Your by yourself.
Is he by himself? He seems to be going somewhere in a hurry? Does he have a group?
Group meant people. People meant protection. Or it meant trouble.
But maybe they had seen Daddy. Or he could be with them.
Glancing back to the "Ohana" truck, I decided a quick detour wouldn't be too bad.
Unless it's a determinant detour. Like death!
The kid could move. He was quickly getting closer.
Follow, no sound, back to their base. I remember Daddy saying like that once talking about his deployment.
Waiting until he passed, double checking my weapons before counted to forty, then followed.
He did not suspect anything.
At least it did not seem like it. I would wait until he glanced back at the city before moving up a few cars. It was almost like clockwork. He would walks so many steps, look back, look left, look right, and walk so many steps before doing it all over again.
Made my tailing easy.
I would say it was my mad stealth skills, but really he was just predictable. He never noticed anything. Not when he finally made it through the cars. Not when he made it to the trees. And especially not when he started going up a dirt road just off the highway. I kept to the trees. Weaving in and out, keeping a distance but keeping him insight.
Then I heard it, voices.
I didn't wait for the Asian, but jogged ahead and to the left a ways. Quietly getting closer. Once I was close enough, I snuck up a tree. Securing my bag, out of sight of anyone who might see it from below, I crawled to the edge of the branch, peering through the leaves.
It was a camp. A good size one. A few cars, a RV, tents, men, women, and even a few children. An old man sat on top of the RV, obviously keeping watch. He would soon see the Asian kid if he didn't already. The women were busy cooking or toting laundry while the men either sat around or stood watch. Well only one guy seemed to be sitting around. There was also a tall thin man working on the RV it seemed.
Who was in charge?
Dad use to say something about beating an enemy you had to know who the leader was. Not that I wanted to fight them or anything but it would help knowing who was calling the shots.
By the look of things it was the dark curly haired guy just coming from the RV. He was the authoritative one to be sure. Gun strapped at his hip, he walked around like he was the one with the answers.
But where they good people?
Sitting there a few more minutes, I studied the whole camp. I was not as good as Daddy at reading people, but he taught me a few things. The more I watched the more it confirmed the dark curly haired guy was the leader. When the Asian guy arrived he went straight up to him, or at least tried with all the people swarming him, showing all the things he got.
Curly grasp the Asian by the shoulder in a very 'Bruh' grip, talking over the contents of the bag while his other hand helping hold up the weight. His arrival drawing even more people from their tents. Everyone except the fat guy sitting outside a tent. He seemed the lazy, beer drinking type, not really caring what was going on as long as he had his chair. But everyone else seemed excited about the Asians return.
Curly and a few others stood out more than the rest. The fat lazy looking guy sitting around was the group slob. The two blond girls seemed to be related, probably sisters. The way they looked, spoke, and spent time together. Also the way the older woman fussed over the younger. Similar to the little white boy and dirty blond girl. The boy and girls mothers were easy to spot, watching how their bearers fussed over them. The brunet woman more concerned about the boy staying at her side then actually spending quality time with him where as the gray haired lady was very attentive to her daughter. Both of which stayed clear of the creepy redneck, finally emerging from a tent due to all the talking, flicking a knife in the air while watching the hustle and bustle of the camp. I saw a dark skinned lady walk up to stand next to the tall thin man working on the RV. And there was a little boy and girl belonging to the Hispanic family. They generally kept to themselves except to play school with the other children.
Curly seemed to care for the tall brunette and little boy, but I did not think he was the father, at least from where I was the boy didn't look anything like him. And just the way the brunette touched his arm when talking to him, there was a different feel, like he was a very good old friend.
I waited a while more, hoping for more people to join them from the tents. With every flutter of the doors or questioning voice my heart fluttered.
But there people stopped showing up.
No Daddy.
My heart fell, regardless. My hopes weren't much of anything to begin with, but it still hurt.
Maybe they saw Daddy.
Maybe he was injured and resting in one of the tents.
Maybe-
I need to watch them some more before I could determine their intentions but the sun was setting. Feeling some wind break through the trees, I shuddered, my empty stomach sloshing with the movement. Climbing back to my bag to retrieve Daddy's NAVY hoodie, briefly pressing it to my nose when I pulled it on.
It was three times my size but I did not mind, still smelled like him, tucking my hair into the hood while the hem reached past my thighs.
Fishing out a granola bar, I went back to my observations branch. Watching the camp for a few more hours like they were a zoo exhibit. Watched them eat dinner, little hispanic kids playing with the two other children before their moms gathered them for the meal. Dinner was cooked up mostly by the gray haired lady, helped a little by the brunette, which everyone gladly gathered around and took a part in. Apparently the Asian brought something good everyone was excited for. If the whiff I caught of what's cooking was any indication, it made my own mouth water and stomach practice its fluency in Whale despite my offering.
Luckily the moon was half full and provided just enough light to continue to observe them a little after the sun settled. The children staying closer to their mothers, holding back yawns. Everyone finally dispersing to their tents for the night except for a few who stood watch.
I needed to get some rest too if I wanted to get back to my spot before everyone woke up. But I needed to set up camp further away. Stomach still protesting because it didn't get what everyone else was eating.
Slowly making my way to my bag, I unstrapped it before glancing around the tree base, pausing to listen.
No groans.
No shuffling.
Breaking off a branch, I let it drop. A soft tuble amplified by the silence.
All clear.
Shimmering down the tree was a little hard with the pack but I had done it plenty of times. Reaching the last branch, I glanced around one last time before dropping the bag, bow, and hung from my fore arms.
A firm grip and a savage tug on my ankle dislodges my fingers from the branch and gravity took care of the rest. I yelped in shock when my hands slipped, sending me hard to the ground.
Gasping for air my hand going for my knife but yelping again when my shoulder was suddenly grasped and shoved against the tree. My head connected hard with the bark and my handgun dug in my back.
"Keep tha' 'and away from tha knife." Growled a deep southern drawl, sending fear straight to my heart. It didn't help he was pointing a cross bow at my face. Slowly I let go of the knife at my waist, holding my hands out to my sides.
"Wa'cha doin' watch'n the camp?" His thick southern accent very prominent despite the venom in it. I could not see much of his face in the shadows but the arrow tip and bow reflected nicely in the moonlight. His lean form crouch so close I could feel the heat radiating from him.
"Please…" It came out more as a gasp. His head cocked to the side slightly. "I didn't-"His hand released my shoulder, yanking back my hood quicker than I could react. Hissing when he pulled a few hairs then yelping again when his hand clamped down on my shoulder as before.
I could feel his eyes looking me over, like a predator to a prey.
Fear was engulfing me. Whimpers slipping from my lips when old memories wanted to be recognized.
Was he part of this group? Maybe this was not a good idea. Maybe they are bad people.
Was he gonna kill me?
"Please." I tried again. "I didn't do anything wrong." It was barely above a whisper but he seemed to hear. With a shove he took a step back, both hands on the crossbow now. He was not huge, maybe 6 feet, not too big but he was solid. A solid mass of angry redneck kane.
Oh yah, he was angry.
"Pick tha' shit up." He snarled, taking another step back, gesturing to my bag. He waited, giving another grunt when I didn't move.
Not very patient this one.
Slowly getting to my feet, I bent down for my bag.
"No funny shit." He snapped, his shoulders very ridged. Looping the bag, and my lame excuse for a bow over my shoulder, I stood, waiting.
"Walk." Motioning with his bow towards the camp, he took a few more steps back. "Keep your hands high on the straps."
I did a double take, wondering if he really intended to parade me into camp at arrow point. A loud grunt was my answer so I started walking. Grasping my backpack straps above my breast.
Many thoughts ran through my head weaving our way through the trees. I could make a move for my knives, slice him then make a run for it.
He was not close enough for that. Always keeping a safe distance away.
I could use the handgun but he seemed deadly comfortable with that bow. Watching carefully for any indication my hands were leaving the straps. Plus, the shot would attract Lolos and I defiantly was not up to that. Almost prefer this dark Robin Hood to a few of those.
Daddy would be upset with me.
He taught me better than this. But I looked. I didn't see or hear anything. How is he so quiet? The only reason I knew he was still back there was a grunt here or there guiding me through the trees along with his eyes burning into my shoulders. Waiting for any unnecessary movement.
He's going to kill me.
He would have already.
Or worse.
He's taking me to camp.
What will they do?
Remember what Daddy said. I told myself.
Continuing to take deep, slow, even breaths.
"ekahi, elua, ekolu, eha, el-"
"Cut that shit out!" He snarled.
"Keeps me calm, Robin Hood." I snapped back, sending him a death glare over my shoulder.
"Shut the hell up! Bring Walkers on us." His anger fueled as a result of the nickname tickled the corner of my mouth.
"Walk faster." His patience getting thinner by his voice.
"I can't see in the dark, Robin Hood." Snarling back. "Unless you would like to lead the way."
"Shut up." His anger and impatience deepening his voice further but he didn't say anymore until we reached the clearing. Finally made it to the outskirts of the tents, where I paused, before he marched me in with a poke to my back.
I really did not like to be touched and he was getting on my ever-loving last nerve.
"Better quick poking me, Robin Hood!" I snapped, a bit louder than I intended.
People were still mulling around, getting settle for the night, until they heard me. The redneck from earlier looked us over with a smirk when I was marched by his tent.
"Nice catch, Darlyna?" He chuckled at Robin Hoods grumble before getting to his feet and following us.
Everyone staring. Whispering, loudly I might add, drawing others from their tents.
The tall brunette stepped into view, pausing when she saw us, before turning to one side.
"Shane?" She said the name a few times before the dark curly haired man's head came into view then his whole body. Putting his hands on his hips he waited until we were a good five feet away before speaking.
"Didn't realize that was what you meant by 'going hunting', Daryl." Shane cocked a smirk as other people began to gather, a little giggle from the younger blond girl. The two blond women, the Asian kid from before, the old man, from the RV, and the small boy I was sure belonged to the tall brunette made a semi-circle around us. Eyes going from Curly, Robin Hood, to me.
"Caught her watching the camp from a tree." Daryl snarled, stepping around me, guessing I wasn't a threat anymore or he figured the other redneck behind me could handle an escape.
I jumped when he to drop some animals by the fire.
He was a hunter.
The one named Shane crossed his arms over his chest with a dark look as others exchanged worried glances. Children being pulled closer to their parents.
"Why you watching our camp?" His voice wasn't harsh, but very authoritative. Daring me not to answer or to try lying.
"Haven't seen anyone in a while." I whispered honestly in a small voice, rubbing my arms to relieve the ace in my fingers from gripping the straps. "Trying to see if you all were good people and-"
"And?" Shane pressed.
"Wanted to see if my Daddy was here."
I glanced at Robin Hood, or Daryl, who was staring at me intently. I could see him better now in the light. He was defiantly a Redneck. Sleeves torn off a plaid shirt, well-worn military grade cargo pants, and an assortment of knives in view and I was sure there were more not in view.
"Are we good people?" Shane snapped, seaming I misunderstood his question.
"Haven't decided." I whispered. The other redneck snorted, shifting his feet.
"We got ourselves a hot toddy." I could feel his elevator eyes again. "And when I say hot I mean that body."
The other adults glared at him, even Daryl seemed annoyed with him, while I suppressed the shudder at having him so close to me much less his words.
"How old are you, sweetheart?" The brunette asked, her face softening.
"Eighteen." I whispered again, like I was afraid 'Daryl' would put an arrow between my eyes if I spoke too loud. I glanced at him again, arrow still pointed at me and his legs spread for battle, then to the ground.
"Daryl? Would you mind?" The woman asked. After a moment Daryl huffed and shouldered the weapon. But not taking his eyes off of me.
"What is your name, kid?" Shane asked, voice a little softer.
"Kai." Fiddling with my sleeve. "I'm from Senoia." Figuring that would be his next question.
"How long you been on your own?" The brunette asked.
"Weeks- lost track…"
"No other family besides your Dad?" The woman asked, sympathy in her voice and eyes.
"No." I looked at her hopefully. "Have you seen him by chance? He's six foot two, dirty blonde hair, solid build, has a cross tattoo on his left arm and a woman tattoo on his right."
"Sorry, child, I don't know." The brunette shook her head.
"Tha's good and all but how in da' hell she find our camp?" Daryl growled. Shane looked at me, expectantly.
"I- uh- was in Atlanta looking for Daddy-." The redneck snickered again, making me clamp my lips shut and dig a toe in the ground.
"Enough, Merle." Shane snarled so I continued on.
"Da-He was supposed to meet me there but I couldn't wait any longer with all the Lolos. Had too many close calls."
"The Walkers?" Brunette asked, folding her arms over her chest. The name fit better than the name I gave them.
I nodded.
"I was leaving when I saw the Asian kid. He had too much stuff for just one person so I followed him here."
Daryl swore under his breath, marching towards the Asian but Shane stepping in between them. Daryl stopping just a few feet away when he saw he was not getting to the Asian, who stepped back a few feet, without a fight.
"Told you that Chinaman shouldn't go alone." He snarled. "Brought this brat right to us."
"Alone or not, they wound not have known I was there, Pua'a." I snapped. He was the one acting like a 'brat'. A spoiled one at that. That seemed to get Daryl to still a little and fix me in a glare.
"That sure of yourself, Duchess?"
"I got within a hundred feet of your dadgum camp, didn't I?" I smirked a little at Daryl's glare and heard Merle chuckle behind me.
"And feisty." Merle mumbled. They're both Pua'a.
"Enough." Shane snapped, but Daryl wasn't fazed.
"How do we know she isn't a scout for another group? Checking us out, seeing what we got."
Shane seemed to consider it, looking me over. The little boy scurried from somewhere to be wrapped up in the tall brunette woman's arms.
"Have anything to say to that?" I shrugged, grasping the steps to my backpack to shift its weight.
"I don't- I guess-was a scout I would not be carrying such a heavy bag, with all my stuff. Would have left it with the others- you know- stay light and fast and stuff- I don't know." I mumbled.
Shane seemed to consider my words.
The woman, glancing at the hand she had in her sons hair, leaned into Shane.
"Shane, look at her." Sympathetic eyes fixing on my hands I was trying really hard not to let them shake. My dark curly hair was tied back somewhat by a scrungie but it had not been washed in days. I am sure dirt was all over my face, though my arms were covered by the sweater, and arms.
I looked everything like a scared lost kid. Shane shook his head, rubbing his tired eyes.
"We will put her in the RV for tonight. Merle grab her bag and Daryl-." I felt fingers graze my bag and I reacted. Twisting and jerking away, pulling my knife out of its hiding place, stepping to the side to keep Merle and Daryl in my view.
"Don't touch me or my stuff, Pua'a." I snapped, also surprised at the steel in my voice.
"What the hell you call m-"
"Not cooperating isn't going to work in your favor." Shane warned, cutting over Merle and stepping closer.
"I will give it to her," I blurted, "but not them." Nodding to the brunette then glared at Merle and Daryl. Shane glanced at the brunette before fixing his eyes on me again, thoughtful.
"Would you mind, Lori?" She looked a little worried, obviously my fast reflexes startled her, but stepped closer to reach out for the bag.
"Careful, it's heavy." I warned before putting my bow down and shifting the bag off my shoulders. I took a moment to slide my knives out of their sleeves and deposit them in the bag. Also the handgun, to everyone astonishment, except for Daryl it seemed, then held the bag out to her.
"Any more weapons?" Shane glanced at Daryl.
"Nope." Does this guy do anything but growl at people? A little empresses but mostly concerned about him knowing how many weapons I had.
Lori gave me a little smile, I was a good four inches shorter than her. I was a good few inches shorter than everyone, except the Asian guy. We were about the same.
Lori's eyes widened when the full weight of my bag hit her, nearly dropping it.
"Heavy, got it." She said with a sheepish smile before ducking into a tent with it. My heart wrenched when she disappeared with the bag. Not much can do about it.
"Daryl, take the bow then take her to the RV." Daryl sputtered at Shane words. "We will deal with her in the morning."
"Why me?" He snarled.
"You found her." Shane growled. Heading to the tent Lori disappeared in. "Everyone go to bed. Shows over. Morales! You have watch."
"I can take the hot toddy if you want, little bro." The realization jerked me a little, though it made sense, when I saw they had the same eyes. Merle eyes roaming all over my body. Everyone else made their way to their tents like nothing was happening.
With a deep throaty growl Daryl marched over, grabbed my bow up then grabbed my arm in an iron grip. I winced, but was a little relieved that it was Daryl and not his brother, only a little, hauling me to the RV.
"Need your key, Dale." The old man who had been on the RV jumped into action, falling in step behind us. Daryl barely had the door open wide enough for me to squeeze before she shoved me in, tripping over the two steps, and slammed the door locked behind me.
"That went well." I breathed, gripping my hair.
Stupid.
O o
Thanks everyone for reading. Please Review! And comment!
Hawaiian:
Kakatia =
Ohana = Family (in this use)
Lolo = Crazy
Kaukau = Food
Kolohe = Rascal
kane = man
Pua'a = Pig
