"Slow down," I called as I stumbled through the shrubs, my feet catching on every root along the way.
"You gotta hurry up," Daryl argued. He was tired, so he was crankier than usual. Even after all this time, it wasn't something you just got used to. Judy was strapped to my back, her tiny hands holding onto my shoulders for dear life. Carl was a few feet to our left, watching us as we stumbled along. Rick tied up the rear, watching for any sign of trouble.
"Brooke, how you holding up?" Carl asked as he came over, helping me untangle myself from a vine.
"Better than last night," I admitted. It'd been a long week, and it only seemed to get long.
"Want me to take Judy for a few miles?" he asked, looking at his little sister. She smiled sweetly, her bright eyes shining.
I shook my head. "She keeps me balanced," I said truthfully. Whenever the little girl wasn't strapped to my back, I'd stumble a whole lot more.
"Just say something if she gets too heavy for ya," he nodded as he walked off, to cover us, as always.
We'd been walking for the last month, through the thickets and shrubs, past old, long since abandoned houses, some, overran by Walkers. I shivered at the memories. It seemed like only yesterday that I was snuggling up next to my mom and uncle Daryl, listening to her tell stories about her life before the world fell apart.
We kept on walking until the sky was painted a bright pink color. The setting sun was right in front of us, meaning we must've been walking West. I slowly unclipped the latches that held the straps to the rig in place, before slowly setting Judy down.
"Thanks," she said merrily as she ran over to her daddy, her long hair flying behind her. I smiled and started rolling the rig up, when I remembered I needed Daryl to help me mend the tear in the one strap.
I walked over to his carefully, not wanting to add insult to injury by getting on his bad side. I had a bad habit of that, 'pparently.
"You did good today, kid," he said when I helped him pitch the tent. It was a small two sleeper, but we all always managed to fit in it, snug as a bug.
"Thanks. Umm, Daryl, the rig's startin' to fall apart again," I said as innocently as I could. I held it up so he could see the frayed strap.
"I'll figure somethin' out later, okay?" he said, taking it from me.
"Thanks," I said before walking off to see if Rick wanted me to watch Judy while the men set up camp.
"You're good with her, you know that?" Rick said as he handed her to me. The four year old was almost getting too big to be carried around, but I never complained.
"She's a good kid," I said with a smile. "Doesn't complain or nothin'."
"She learned it from you," he said as he handed me a knife. "Stay close," he added as he went to scout the area, Carl in tow.
"Brooke, read me a story," Judy demanded when I sat her down next to Daryl's pack.
"Hmm, what story do you wanna hear?" I asked. I sure didn't know how to read well, but I remembered a lot of stories Daryl and Carl and Rick used to tell. Some my mama even told, 'fore everything.
"Tell me the 'un about when your mama was still 'round," she said eagerly. I hated that story, but I'd tell it to her anyway. The kid never asked for much, the least I could do was tell her a happy story, even if it made me sad inside.
I sat down next to her, leaning back against Daryl's pack. I pulled the thick winter jacket around the two of us – it used to belong to my mama – and closed my eyes, trying to remember the perfect place to start.
"I remember only a lil' bit about my mama. I know she had pretty dark hair, and loving eyes. I remember she loved to sing," I said softly. I was picturing the last time I saw her alive. "She was real strong, protective of us kids. Kept on sayin' we ain't deserve to die like that. I 'member she sent me to Daryl, told me to stay with 'im, no matter what. No matter what I heard."
Tears welled in my eyes when I remembered that. My mama told me to go. Told me to stay with Daryl. For the life o' me, I couldn't remember why. I couldn't remember why she told me to run.
"Anyway, my mama loved kids. I was 'er only baby, but she loved you something fierce. I 'member her holding you so much those last few weeks. She never wanted to let you go, even though you was Rick's baby," I smiled down at the little girl. She smiled happily, her eyes shining with pure innocence that only a real little kid could have.
"What kinda songs did your mama sing?" she asked. I remembered one in particular, a song Daryl sometimes hummed when we first left the prison.
"It went something like this," I said, trying to recall the beginning. When I couldn't, I just sang the middle. The one part I knew. "With arms wide open, under the sunlight, welcome to this place, I'll show you everything, with arms wide open. Now everything has changed, I'll show you love, I'll show you everything," I sang softly. Judy snuggled in up next to me, listening as I repeated the little song over and over, until tears finally choked me up.
We both jumped when someone cleared their throat. Instinctively, I jumped to my feet, pulling Judy behind me, my small pistol aimed in the direction of the noise.
"Whoa tiger, be careful where you point that thing," a familiar voice scolded. I slid the gun back into the small holster on my hip.
"Sorry, Daryl," I said, showing Judy that we were okay.
"Don't be, it's good you're alert like that," he said, coming towards us. "Just wanted to tell ya that the tents up. Go make your beds," he said giving me a reassuring nod. I took hold of Judy's hand and led her towards the tent, picking up our small bags in the process.
We set up our beds in the back of the tent, the same place we always did. We made sure to leave enough space for Daryl to throw down his sleeping bag beside mine. We always slept like that. Daryl on one side of me, Judy on my other, Carl next to her, Rick at the end. The adults said it was 'cause it was safer that way. None of us kids argued.
"You want food before you go to bed?" I asked Judy. She nodded her head eagerly. I shifted through my pack and found my last piece of dried deer. I had been saving it for a special occasion, but decided the little girl needed it more than I did. "Eat it quick, before Carl comes in," I said softly. She did as I said, she was good like that. I waited until Carl came into the tent, before I went out to see if Daryl managed to find anything for dinner. Now that I was bigger, he normally let me come along, even taught me how to catch rabbits and little things with my hands.
I found him sitting by the fire, his hands bloody from the messy task of gutting and skinning rabbits. I sat next to him and watched for a while, lost in my own thoughts. Finally, I looked up, my eyes locking on the long since healed scar on his cheek, where'd he got cut when him and my mama crashed the bike all those years ago.
"What goin' on in that head o' yours?" he asked, catching me looking at him.
"I was jus' thinking about my mama," I said truthfully. I could never lie to Daryl. He was the closest thing to a parent I had anymore.
"Why's that?" he asked softly, handing me a stick with a rabbit skewed on the end. I held it over the fire while I thought about what to say.
"Judy asked me to tell her a story 'bout her before she was gone," I finally said, trying my hardest not to cry. "But I couldn't. I couldn't tell her anythin' but what you told be 'bout her," I said, my voice quivering.
"You remember what your mama used to tell ya, right?" he said softly, moving a little closer. I could feel the warmth coming off him, the fire playing shadows along his face.
"She used to say, 'member what your daddy used to say when you was scared?' and I'd say 'yeah mama, that angels will keep all the bad away'" I said with a sad nod. "But daddy was wrong! Mama was too!" I said, the tears finally spilling over. "Them angels ain't done nothin' to keep the bad away!" I handed the stick back to him and stood up, angry and scared and tired and lonely. I stomped away, then remembered that Walkers might be in the woods. Suddenly, fear overtook and I was right back next to Daryl, sobbing into his arm.
"Hey, hey kid, shh, shh," he said gently. He rubbed small circles in my back just like my mama used to. Soon, the sobs stopped and I looked up, feeling silly and childish. "That's right, no more cryin' ya hear?"
I nodded slowly, sniffling. "I made you burn the rabbit," I moaned when I saw the burning hunk of meat.
"Don't you worry your pretty little head 'bout that," he said with a smile. The fire made his eyes look like they were dancing. For the millionth time, I found myself lost in them, almost seeing life through his eyes. My mama once said he was jus' like my uncle Damien. A real swell guy. Sorta like a wolf. I never knew what she meant, but I liked it.
"You listenin' kid?" he said, nudging me. I blinked and stared at him for a moment before shaking my head.
"Sorry," I laughed softly.
"I said, why don't you take this in the tent to Carl and Judy?" he said, handing me the stick. "Careful, it's hot." I nodded and started towards the tent.
I froze when I heard a twig snap. I'd learned to walk silently in the years since my mama left. I stood very still and listened, the rabbit still in my hand. Another twig snapped and my heart skipped a beat. Suddenly, something moved, close 'nough for me to see that it was a man. Tall. With a...was that a knife? Suddenly, without thinking, I turned and ran, the rabbit long forgotten on the ground. I screamed as I ran, right up to the fire, nearly falling right in it. Had Daryl not heard me coming, I just might've.
"What in the world?" he asked, pulling me close. Rick was standing beside us, his gun trained on the figure morning towards us.
I wrapped my hand tightly around Daryl's arm, my short nails digging into the flesh.
"He's got a knife for a hand!" I blurted out, my voice high and shrill.
"Merle?" Daryl asked cautiously. "That you?"
"Bet your ass it's me, little brother," the man with a knife for a hand said with a raspy voice. He stepped forward, the fire casting shadows over his face. "That 'un must be the kid she's been yappin' about for the last four years," he said, pointing right at me.
"What?" Rick asked, his gun still trained on the man.
To me, the same sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it. I couldn't remember where I heard it before.
But the next voice I heard sounded so familiar, it sent me to my knees.
"Brookie?"
a/n- Continuation of "Survival of the Fittest". If you haven't read it first, this will make very little sense to you. I'm not going to give you much detail in the beginning, as this one will be a lot slower than the first. :) Thanks for reading!